Ever After
by Hannanora-Potter
Summary: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Dursleys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events. HG RH
1. Prologue: Rain

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** 'blah' thoughts

**Prologue: Rain**

"You won't be gone long, will you?"

Earl James Potter turned to stare at his manservant incredulously. "Bloody hell, Padfoot – he's not even a toddler yet – don't be so nervous!"

At this Sirius Black spluttered incoherently, causing James to smirk. It wasn't often he saw his old friend this flustered. "I am not nervous!" Sirius finally snapped, glaring at him. James just laughed.

"Whatever you say, Black, whatever you say," he said, turning his back on the still flustered servant. Hurried footsteps told him Sirius was following as he made for the door.

"You still haven't answered my question," Sirius reminded him as they stepped outside. "How long?"

"Sirius, you're not _worried_, are you?" came an incredulous voice and James turned, still laughing, towards his driver.

"Apparently so, Peter," he confirmed, grinning.

Peter started laughing, automatically stroking the horse as it gave a start at the sudden sound. "Merlin, Sirius – he's only _one_!"

Sirius was definitely looking grumpy now. "I _know_ that, Peter, thank you," he snapped, glaring. "It's just… well, what if he starts crying? Or I accidentally drop him? Or he… you know – hey! It's not funny!"

"I think it is."

"Well, then… both of you have an appalling sense of humour."

"Oh, relax, Padfoot," James said, slapping Sirius on the back. "Lily and I are only going for four days and then we'll be back. Besides," he added, adjusting his cloak, "it's not as if you're going solo on this – there's Remus and Arabella as well."

"Yes, and luckily Remus has some smidgen of sense, unlike _you_," Peter added, now double checking the horses' shoes. Unluckily for him, this meant he not only provided an excellent target for Sirius' foot, but also ensured that he didn't see it coming. "Oof!"

"Hmm… you're right, James – I suddenly feel much better!" Sirius said lightly, before skipping back into the house before Peter could recover.

Peter watched him go with a bemused smile on his face, before shaking his head and turning back to the carriage and horses. James himself pulled on his gloves and wandered just past the horses to survey the grounds. Even after living all his life at the manor, he never grew tired of the view it afforded of the surrounding lands. Rolling hills shone emerald in the overhead sun, dotted with spots of colour for the various flowers that flourished. To the left hand side a forest hid the main road and a small lake from sight. As the wind played softly through the trees it brought with it a hint of lilies... he breathed it in, sighing contentedly.

"James? Are you ready?"

James turned at the soft voice from behind and smiled lovingly at his wife. Lily Potter smiled back, walking to his side. She had on a simple green cloak over the finery beneath, the emerald bringing out her beautiful eyes. James himself had opted for a plain black cloak, which Lily now took the time to tug into place. James just rolled his eyes and let her, watching her face.

"So, I hear Sirius had a minor panic attack," she said, conversationally.

James sniggered. "You could say that," he agreed, catching her hands as she finished. "He's a superb valet but… baby sitter, he is not."

"That's why I insisted Remus stay behind, too," Lily pointed out, leading James back to the house. She sighed. "I wish Harry was old enough to come with us."

James full out laughed then. "You wait until he is, and then you'd be wishing he had to stay behind!"

Lily opened her mouth to retort, when she was cut off by a squeal of laughter. Glare turning to a grin, she pretended not to hear James' teasing comment of "Speak of the devil" as she turned to Marlene, who held a laughing Harry in her arms.

"Come here, you little monster, you," she said, reaching out and taking Harry from Marlene's embrace. Harry gurgled delightedly, small hands immediately reaching out for Lily's red locks.

"Er, maybe Daddy should take the little monster," James interjected hurriedly, before Harry could displace any of Lily's hair. Goodness knows it had taken Marlene an age to do it in the first place.

Not to be outwitted, Harry's grasping hand immediately latched on to James hair instead. However, as James hair naturally resembled a bird's nest – and no amount of gels, lotions or even potions could do anything about it – it didn't matter in the slightest.

"Now, who's going to be a good boy whilst Daddy and Mummy are away?" James asked Harry, holding him up in front of his face.

Much to James' amusement, Harry actually seemed to ponder the question before solemnly replying, "Moony."

James grinned. "Correct. And who is going to terrorise Uncle Padfoot whilst Daddy and Mummy are gone?"

Harry grinned. "Me."

"Hey!"

James grinned over at the recently re-emerged Sirius. "Sorry, mate, but he seems to be incorrigible – hey!"

He glared at Lily, who had just swatted him around the head before taking back her son. "Honestly, James – at this rate you're going to give Sirius a heart attack," she reprimanded him, before turning to smile at Harry. "Now, Harry, you ignore anything your father says and be a good boy to Sirius and Remus and Arabella, ok?"

Harry nodded. "'k" he agreed, smiling.

Lily gave him a kiss, before handing him back to James. "Good bye."

James, too, gave him a kiss. "Bye, Prongslet," he murmured, before making to hand him over to Arabella. Harry looked at him, curiously, for a few moments, before he started to cry.

"Don't worry, Master Harry," Arabella said, bouncing him. "Your Mummy and Daddy will be back soon." It didn't stop him crying, however – in fact, he just cried all the louder.

Lily looked worried, but Arabella just smiled and waved her off. "Don't worry about it, my Lady. He'll be fine."

Lily smiled at the older woman, although her eyes looked worried still. James went and took her arm. "Come on, Lily," he gestured, pulling her to where Peter was waiting with the carriage. As he passed Sirius, James added, "Give Remus my best when he's up – and make sure he gets _some_ rest over the next couple of days. I know what he's like."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, I know – now get going before you're late."

James grinned at him. "Worst comes to worst we'll just apparate."

Sirius raised an eyebrow now. "You know Countess McGonagall will kill you – it's extremely bad manners."

James shrugged. "Well, she'll definitely kill us if we don't turn up at all, so I'll take the lesser of two evils, thanks." So saying, he swung himself into the carriage. "See you, Sirius. Off we go then, Peter."

Peter, already waiting, clicked and the horses took off. Waving out at the window to Sirius, Arabella and the still sobbing Harry, James turned to look at Lily and Marlene. "Wake me when we get there," he said, ignoring their rolling eyes and pulling his cloak over his head. He was very tired – with the full moon just last night he was exhausted and hoped to provide at least a semi respectable face at Lady McGonagall's ball that night. He droned off to sounds of Lily's chatter with her maid.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

It was raining. It had started raining three days after the Potters had left Potter manor. It had been raining for a total of three days by the point that Potter household staff were getting worried. It had been raining four days when they decided to take action and get in contact with the party. It was on the fifth day of rain that the front door was ominously knocked on. It was on this fifth day that their lives crumpled around them.

And now, as they dressed themselves and little Harry in their best blacks, it was still raining for the funeral of Lily and James Potter, Marlene McKinnon and Peter Pettigrew. The four of them stood in the rain, watching as they committed their best friends to the earth. Arabella was sobbing, clutching at the small form of Harry. Harry didn't understand what was going on, and was more interested in trying to catch the falling raindrops and watching fascinated as they slid off him instead (Remus and Sirius had cast the impervious charm to protect themselves, Arabella and Harry from the cold and wet).

Remus and Sirius stood side by side, silent and stiff, as if moving would cause them to break. Both of them had had their lives changed by the Potters. Sirius, whilst from a noble family, had been disgraced and disinherited, banished into the world of commoners without so much as a knut to call his own. It was James, his unlikely friend from boarding school, that had come through for him – welcomed him, given him a home and a job. Sirius knew that James would have let him live with them as an equal, but Sirius' pride was having none of it. Despite the fact that they were now master and servant, James had never treated Sirius any differently.

Remus, likewise, was an outcast. Whilst born to one of the lesser noble families, Remus was turned out from his family at the age of 6 because he had been bitten by a werewolf. In fact, the family had meant to kill him, rid themselves of the shame, but Remus had escaped them. It had been Harold Potter, James' father, who had found the young Remus, exhausted and alone and had brought him into their house. He and James had effectively grown up together.

Now, to be here, to have to feel this… it was almost more than the two men could handle. And if it weren't for Harry, both suspected they would have broken down, unable to cope. As it was, they had something – some_one_ – to live for. And they were going to make damn sure that Harry knew all about his parents – and Peter and Marlene, too. Both had similar stories, although they had belonged to wealthy merchant families, rather than the nobility. Those two had become especially close in the last few months and James, Remus and Sirius were betting on when Peter would finally have the courage to ask for hand… a bet that would never come to fruition.

"Mr Black, is it?"

Both Remus and Sirius whipped around to face a portly man, dressed somewhat uncomfortably in a cloak and dark black breeches and shirt which pressed uncomfortably at his too large belly. He was soaking wet, and kept running a hand over his eyes to get rid of the excess water. He nodded stiffly at them. "I am Baron Fudge, Earl Potter's lawyer."

When that got nothing out of the two, Fudge shifted awkwardly. "I've, uh, been detailed by his Majesty to oversee the dealing of the Potter estate."

_That_ got a response from the two men. "What do you mean, 'dealing' of the estate?" Sirius exclaimed, angrily. "There's still a member of the family alive – it's not going anywhere!" Besides him, Remus nodded angrily.

Fudge looked even more uncomfortable at that. "Well, yes… but Godric's Hollow is a very prominent estate – the Potter's are a very important _family_ – and his Majesty is… _uncomfortable_ with the idea of the estate being managed by two servants until Earl Potter comes of age at 17…" He trailed off, paling a bit as he saw the furious expressions on the two 'servants' faces. But then he remembered that, not only was he a noble, he had been appointed by the crown and he gained self importance. "The King has commanded that, as the paternal line has no relatives, the closest maternal relatives will take over the Potter estate until the boy is ready."

"Closest maternal… you _can't_ mean the Dursleys!" Remus exclaimed, incredulously.

Fudge looked quite surprised at Remus shock. "Well, they are the closest relatives the boy has now, not to mention a very respectable family."

Remus was still staring at Fudge as though he was insane, as Sirius scoffed angrily. "Oh, yes, _very_ respectable," he snorted. "There is no _way_ that James put that in his will, so I want to know why you're deliberately not following a document that is bound by _law_," he growled menacingly.

Fudge, despite being obviously intimidated by Sirius' superior height and bulk, was getting a little angry himself. "I am not following the legal document in question because it calls for one of the country's oldest and most prominent noble families to be handed over to the care of two _servants_, that's why!"

"I'll have you know that both Remus and I come from equally noble blood lines!"

Fudge scoffed. "I am aware of that fact. I am also aware that both of you have been disowned and publicly disinherited, making your ability to look after the young Earl even more questionable!" He took a deep breath. "I am sorry for your loss," he snapped, "but if you don't start behaving in a manner more fitting to your station I shall have both of you shipped off to the Americas tomorrow!"

Sirius opened his mouth angrily – presumably to tell the Baron where he could shove it – but was stopped by Remus' vice like grip on his arm. "We apologise, Baron," he apologised, bowing his head. "Grief has caused us to act rashly and out of character. We mean no disrespect, sir."

Sirius stared at Remus incredulously, before Remus squeezed his arm even more, hissing, "Think Padfoot – if we're gone, who'll be there for Harry?" Eyes widening slightly, Sirius managed to mumble an apology, glaring at the ground.

Fudge was still glaring at them, but the force of it had lessened. "Yes, well. The Durselys will be arriving to take up residence in a week's time. Make sure you have the house in perfect condition. _They_ are your masters now."

And he turned on his heel and walked out of the cemetery, leaving them devastated all over again.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	2. Chapter 1: Slaves

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** '_blah_' = thoughts

Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**Chapter One: Slaves**

Harry sighed, watching the sun as it rose over the fields and forests of the estate, casting everything in a pale gold light. He relished these quiet moments at the beginning of the day – all alone, he could pretend that he wasn't stuck under the thumb of his foul relatives, day and night, without respite. He could pretend that he was just another boy, just watching another sunrise.

"Up early today, Harry."

Harry didn't turn at the voice. "So are _you_. You really should be in bed still. We all know tonight's going to be a bad one."

"Yeah, well." Sirius Black sat down next to Harry on the stone wall. They sat in silence for a long moment, taking in the quiet serenity that both knew could not last.

It had been 15 long years since the rainstorm which had seen the end of Lily and James; 15 long years living with the Dursleys. The manor – and indeed the kingdom – had changed a lot since then. Old King Ignatius had died rather suddenly, setting into effect a chain of dramatic events that lead to the current ruling couple, King Arthur and Queen Molly. It was hard to say who was more shocked by the succession – the members of court or the royal couple themselves. It was a fair bet to say that Princess Molly, who was a cousin of Sirius' through marriage, never expected to inherit the crown, seeing as how she was fourth in line. Due to a series of deaths and abdications, however, she was now the ruling Monarch.

Sirius had known it was going to be a tough time with the Dursleys: he just hadn't realized how tough. He could still remember that first day like it was yesterday…

It was still raining, the day the Dursleys arrived. Sirius kind of liked that – it was as though the very heavens were crying for Lily and James. Of course, that same rain had also been the cause of their accident, precipitating a sudden landslide which had washed the carriage off the road and down the hill.

_A carriage was suddenly in sight, coming round the last bend of the meandering drive. Sirius glanced uncertainly towards Remus, who looked resigned. Next to Remus was Arabella, Harry sat solemnly in her arms. It was as though he knew what to expect. Beyond those three, the rest of the house and ground staff stood ready to receive their new masters. They had yet to replace both Peter and Marlene's positions, the thought simply too distressing at the present._

_As the carriage came to a halt, one of the footmen sprang forward immediately to open the carriage door. Fixing his face in as neutral an expression as he could manage, Sirius stepped forward to offer his hand to Lady Petunia._

_Petunia was a scrawny woman, with horse-like features heavily disguised through excessive make up and fashionable clothing. Her blonde hair was scraped back into an elegant bun, bejewelled pins artistically arranged. Yet, despite all her finery, her face was set in a greedy expression as she surveyed the house, before a sneer set in as she beheld the staff. Gritting his teeth, Sirius managed a "My Lady," before dropping her arm like a hot potato._

_Following her out of the carriage was a very frail, wispy woman who had ensconced in her arms the fattest baby Sirius had ever seen. This, then, must be Dudley, Harry's cousin._

_Lastly, emerging with an arrogant grin on his face, was Lily's brother-in-law, Sir Vernon. Sirius took one look at the pretentious, puce face with its piggy little eyes and knew that he would _never_ like the man._

_But, for Harry's sake, he had to try._

"_Sir Vernon," he greeted through gritted teeth. "May I welcome you, Lady Petunia and Master Dudley to Godric's Hollow."_

_Vernon, however, ignored him, instead surveying the house and the surrounding grounds with a calculating look. He didn't even spare a glance at poor Harry, who was trying to smile at the squirming Dudley._

"_May I present his grace, Earl Harry Potter?" Sirius prompted, inwardly seething._

_All that happened was Lord and Lady Dursley turned back to glance at the boy, various expressions of distaste etched on their faces. However, one thing did interest Petunia._

"_You have a nursemaid here?" she asked, eyeing Arabella much as one eyes a vegetable at the market._

_Arabella curtsied uncertainly. She wasn't used to being talked about as though she wasn't there, but wondered perhaps if the Dursleys were a bit nervous and still saddened by the loss of their sister. So she gave Lady Petunia a tentative smile and replied, "I am Earl Harry's nursemaid, my lady."_

"_Good," Petunia said, sniffing disdainfully at her nephew, who was staring at her unabashed. "In that case you can take Dudley here and ensure that he is properly fed and bathed before his afternoon nap." She made a face. "Cassandra is my lady-in-waiting and I am loath to miss her company much longer."_

_Receiving Petunia's nod, Cassandra held out Dudley for Arabella to take._

_Arabella, whose arms were already full with Harry, stared at her new mistress. "But, my Lady, what about his Lordship?"_

_Petunia stared back at Arabella in outrage. "You _dare_ to question _me_, servant?" she snapped, pulling herself up to her full height, eyes going bright with fury. "I gave my orders and I expect them to be _followed_!"_

"_Yes, my Lady, but – "_

"_Are you _deaf_, woman?" Vernon roared suddenly. "Give the brat to one of the maids to look after, what do _we_ care?"_

_There was a shocked silence that rang throughout the courtyard. Sirius couldn't believe it – he knew the Dursleys were bad_,_ but _this_?_

_Taking a step forward to speak his mind – or rather, in this case, yell loudly and insult his new masters profusely – Sirius felt a sudden vice-like clamp on his arm._

"_Don't," Remus hissed in his ear and Sirius belatedly felt the sting of a spell hit his back. "Think of Harry!"_

"_I _am_ thinking of Harry!" Sirius hissed back only to realise no sound came forth._

_Remus had silenced him._

"_Hannah, please take Harry and help Arabella with Master Dudley," Remus instructed calmly into the silence. Both ladies looked at him, worried, before curtsying to Lord and Lady Dursley, Arabella handing Harry to Hannah, one of the chambermaids, and taking a squirming Dudley from Cassandra. As they left, Remus continued, "Now, my Lord and Lady, you must be tired from your journey. May I interest you in some light refreshments...?"_

_Remus's polite conservation drifted away as he led the still glowering Dursleys through the house to the drawing room._

_Sirius watched him go with a deadened heart. He hadn't thought that the Dursleys could be better than what he'd imagined from what little Lily had said and he'd been right. They were worse._

_How was he going to get through the next day, let alone the next seventeen years with them as his master?_

'_Oh, James, Lily, I miss you. And Harry has never needed you more.'_

Sirius sighed. Things hadn't improved much since then – in fact, they had gotten worse.

Again.

Their casual dismissal of their nephew hadn't ended with that first meeting. Lady Petunia continually fussed over her own spoilt son, stopping Arabella from paying any attention to Harry at all.

Harry instead found himself entrusted to the scullery and chamber maids who struggled to keep an eye on him in between their work. Sirius and Remus often came in from their duties to find the small noble crying because he was hungry or needed changing.

Whenever this happened, Remus often had to physically or magically restrain his friend from cursing the Dursleys. '_After all,_' he had said, '_if they fire us then there will be no one to care for him at all._'

So they did the best they could, bribing and begging the maids to take a few minutes off each day to check on their small master. They were quite willing at first, both because they had all been fond of James and Lily and because they felt sorry for the young Earl. But then Lady Petunia had found out and, after a round of lashings, the maids were too scared to take them up again.

Out of frustration Remus and Sirius even tried to petition the King and the Royal Council – they were, after all, the ones that were apparently _so_ concerned about the young Earl's welfare – but they had simply written a snooty letter in reply.

One of the worst days in Sirius' life had been the day when Remus had to inform the Dursleys of his lycanthropy. Sirius had tried to talk him out of it, trying to persuade him that he could keep it secret, but in the end had to agree that it simply wasn't safe. When James and Peter had been alive, the three of them had transformed into their animagus forms for the evening and kept the beast sane in a specially enchanted basement.

But, with both of them gone, Sirius was unsure of his ability to keep the werewolf-Remus contained and that could have fatal consequences for all members of the household. Not that he particularly cared about the Dursleys, but he knew that Remus would be hunted down and killed by the King's Forces.

The resulting row had gone on for three and a half hours.

At first the Dursleys had screamed (Lady Petunia) and called for Remus to be destroyed (Lord Vernon). Remus, pale faced and shaking, had mainly remained silent, letting Sirius (for once) do most of the yelling.

With a surprising amount of tact (or extreme pig-headed stubbornness) Sirius had managed to talk the Dursleys down from execution, to deportation, to prison, to dismissal and then, finally, to their current solution.

Sirius shuddered. '_A basement of silver... a room of pure poison,_' he thought, suddenly feeling chilly, despite the warmth of the sun on his face. '_Poor Remus..._'

Rather than try and contain the wild beast, Sirius' monthly job was now simply to try and keep his best friend alive. The silver basement had been Petunia's idea, something that surprised Sirius before he got to know his masters better. Vernon was brutish and violent, but at least he was upfront about it: Petunia was spiteful and calculating and held enough knowledge of the magical world from Lily to know how to punish them.

"We'll line the basement with silver," she had said, suddenly, causing Sirius to stare at her in horror and Remus turn even paler.

"You – you can't!" Sirius had stuttered, horrified. "Silver's poisonous – you'd kill him!"

"Not necessarily," Petunia had snapped back. "Werewolves are more resilient when it comes to poisons. And if he dies... well, what loss is it?" she finished, shrugging unconcernedly.

"How dare – "

"We accept," Remus had said, hand clamped firmly around Sirius' mouth. Sirius could feel him trembling and his hands were sweating in fear, but none of that showed in his best friend's voice.

"That's a death sentence, Remus," he had snapped, after Remus had dragged him out of the drawing room and released him. "All that silver... they would have been kinder to take you out into the yard and chop off your head, because _this_?! This is nothing short of torture!"

"I know, Sirius," Remus had said quietly. He sounded exhausted, as though he had already gone through a full moon. "But Petunia's right – werewolves _are_ more resilient." He quirked a small smile. "That's why we're so hard to kill."

"Resilient, maybe, but all that silver – you'll be ill for weeks and won't really recover before the next full moon..." he trailed off, desperate. "They'll be killing you, Moony. Slowly, but surely, torturous murder."

"But I can't leave Harry with just you!" Remus snapped back at him, suddenly fiery. And," he added, with a choked off hysterical laugh, "who on Earth will give me a job otherwise?"

And to that, Sirius had no reply.

'_And not only do the Dursleys get away with nothing less than torture,_' Sirius thought angrily, absently glaring into the sunset, '_they actually make him _pay_ for the privilege!_'

"Silver is expensive," Petunia had said prissily. "If you expect to stay in our employ we need to take precautions – and it is not our fault that such precautions are costly. So we shall be taking the money out of your wages."

"Don't worry, Sirius." Harry's voice made him jump. In his dark thoughts he'd forgotten that his Godson was standing next to him. "When I'm 17 I'll make sure the Dursleys are sent to Azkaban for the rest of their lives."

"I don't think you can send muggles to Azkaban," Sirius pointed out, but grinned at the thought. He'd love to see that. "And how do you know what I'm thinking?"

Harry pulled a sad face. "Because you always think about the same thing the day before the full moon," he told his Godfather sadly. "And as to Azkaban... well," he said, face hardening, "I'm sure the King and Queen will make an exception when I explain to them."

In the distance a cock crowed and Sirius sighed. "I'd better go get settled in with Remus," he told Harry, pulling him into a one armed hug. "You be good today, pup."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm 16, Sirius – don't you think that nickname is getting a little old now?"

Sirius grinned. "Never!" he proclaimed, squeezing Harry. "In fact, I think that shall be your Marauder name when you get your form."

"You know I'll probably be a cat, now," Harry teased the older man as they began walking back to the manor. "What will you do then?"

"I'm sure we can find a suitably embarrassing name. How about Kitty?"

"Shut up, you git."

Sirius laughed, a harsh bark of a laugh that was suddenly cut off as he and Harry crossed the threshold into the manor. It made Sirius sad what the house had come to symbolise for them all. When James and Lily were alive it had been a house where laughter was common place, not shunned; it had been a place of friends and equals, even amongst the servants.

Now it was a place of torment, horror and hardship.

Sirius sadly watched his Godson disappear into the kitchen to start the day's chores, as always feeling a surge of guilt at the life Harry led. He was sure James and Lily would be rolling in their graves had they known and, not for the first time and certainly not the last, Sirius wished he could go back in time and change history, damn the consequences.

Surely anything was better than this: the life of a slave.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

As Sirius departed for what the house had come to call the 'Wolf Room', Harry headed down into the kitchen to start his chores.

The Dursleys had 'decided', when Harry was only five, that in order to best understand how to keep an estate he should learn from a practical point of view: in other words, be a servant.

At first the chores had been simple, but as the Dursleys spent more and more money – and consequently fired more and more servants – Harry now never stopped working from dawn until midnight. The jobs that had once been spread around 50 or so servants were now shared by just 5, excluding the personal servants employed by Vernon and Petunia (Sirius had managed to last a surprising two years as butler to Lord Vernon without strangling him before Vernon had hired a simpering snob called John Mason).

And, on the day of a full moon, this number dropped to just three.

Harry walked into the kitchen and grinned as he saw his best friend, Hermione Granger, sleeping in front of the fire, an old book clenched in her hand. Hermione was fated to be perpetually in search of knowledge – Harry had never known anyone to devour books as though they were food before he had met her.

Quite often he had to wake his fellow teenager in the morning when she fell asleep by the fire, reading, just like today. He grinned as he noted the book in her lap – it was one he had gotten her for her birthday last year.

Hermione had lived with the Dursleys for four years now. She was a muggleborn witch, like Harry's mother had been but, unlike the late Lily Evans, she was not so lucky. Magic was a bonus if you were in the aristocracy or from a wealthy merchant family.

If you were an impoverished commoner it was a nightmare.

Magical education cost a lot of money. There were no schools so any magic had to be taught privately. This cost money – money the Granger family didn't have. Her parents were servants in one of the old noble houses – the Malfoy family – who were nearly as stingy with their money as the Dursleys.

When Hermione had started showing magical symptoms at age 11, her parents panicked. The Malfoy family, a particularly snobby magical branch of the nobility, did not tolerate magic in their servants. They believed that magic should be something limited to the aristocracy and no one else. If they found out Hermione was a witch then they would most likely have dismissed the entire family and where would that leave them? They couldn't afford a tutor to teach Hermione control and without control having a witch around could be a dangerous situation. They would find it next to impossible to find another employment.

So, with many tears, the day after Hermione's twelfth birthday they had given her a bag, some savings and sent her on her way to find a job.

Hermione didn't often say too much about her parents. Harry knew that she understood why they had to cut their ties with her, but it still hurt her deep down, so he tried to avoid asking her about it.

How Hermione had come to be with the Dursleys actually started with the final member of their household: Sirius' second cousin, Nymphadora Tonks. Her mother Andromeda, like Sirius, had been disgraced and disinherited from the family, this time because she married a commoner and had so been forced to find work in the nearby capital. Luckily Andromeda had been well tutored in magical studies so was able to set up a small potion brewing business, whilst her husband, Ted Tonks, gathered the ingredients for her.

When Nymphadora had been born, it was immediately apparent that she had inherited not only her mothers' magical talents but quite a bit more – she was but three hours old before her hair had changed from the downy black of birth to a bright blue.

"I don't know what we shall do with her," Andromeda had written wearily to Sirius one day, shortly after the girl had turned eleven. "She changes her look so often now – and I know it is out of boredom – but it scares people and we are losing more and more money. One woman even called her devil child last week! She needs to be taught so much more than I have time for – her control over her magic is minimal as it is! But with Ted spending so much time away, collecting ingredients... I don't know what to do!"

But she had tried her best, teaching Tonks (as, by the age of thirteen, she had insisted everyone call her (although Andromeda compromised by calling her Dora)) scraps of information in between stirring cauldrons and chopping up ingredients and selling potions to the customers the trickled in.

And so they struggled along until, one day, eight years ago on her sixteenth birthday, Tonks had decided that enough was enough: she loved her parents dearly, but even though she had better control over her metamorphmagi abilities now, the shop had never fully recovered from those earlier years. She couldn't hamper her parents any longer: it was time for her to find something for herself. So, hair her favourite pink colour, she packed a bag, said her goodbyes to her parents and set off.

Unfortunately, determined though she was to earn her own keep, she hadn't quite thought exactly how or where she was going to do this. Not many people were willing to take on an estranged member of the aristocracy, with few connections, even less money, a magic wand and pink hair to boot.

In fact, she was so utterly rejected for the first week (even after toning her hair down to a respectable mousy brown) that she almost gave up.

That was when she remembered her mother's cousin, Sirius Black.

She had never met her cousin. Aside from the nobility, no one could afford time off work for travelling. But everything her mother had said – and the few rather sneaky looks at letters he sent them every now and then – had led her to believe that she would get on really well with him.

Not, of course, to mention that he worked in a big estate that would surely not turn away an extra helping hand if it came calling?

So, with renewed vigour, she made her way across the city and fields to Godric's Hollow with her plans made. She would stay and work with Sirius until she found something else that took her fancy.

And she had been at Godric's Hollow ever since. Although repulsed by the awful Dursleys, she found good friends in Sirius and Remus, and, after only two days, felt a sense of determination to help poor eight-year-old Harry Potter against his abysmal relatives.

The Durselys, whilst none too thrilled about having yet _another_ magical employee, did not dismiss her (although Petunia was constantly snapping at her to do something about her once-again-pink hair) and chose instead to send her out on long distance business trips around the country.

It was on one of these trips that she had come across a homeless, desperate Hermione and recognised the signs of uncontrolled magic as she fended off two attackers. Gaining the young girls trust enough to get her to come back with Tonks to Godric's Hollow took the better part of a week and earned her a lashing from the Dursleys for tardiness, but she didn't mind. Watching the younger girl hungrily read any book that was pushed her way and excel in performing spells was all worth it. Not to mention that Harry finally had someone his own age to talk to.

Shaking his head to rouse himself from the memories, Harry called softly, "Hermione, wake up."

Hermione groaned and shifted a little so that the book fell out of her lap. "What?"

"It's morning – come on, it's a full moon day today," Harry said, crouching down. "We'd better get to it."

"Wh – oh, Harry," Hermione yawned, before smiling at him. "I fell asleep in front of the fire reading."

"Really? I never would have guessed," Harry teased, taking her outstretched hand and pulling her to her feet.

"They already in _there_?" Hermione asked, as she shot a spell at the table. Ingredients and cutlery all immediately sprang to life, preparing the mornings bread.

"Yeah," Harry said, quietly. He hated this time of the month. Sirius, Remus, Hermione and Tonks – they were his only family – and once a month he was faced with the gut clenching worry that he was going to lose one of them forever.

Hermione gave him a one armed hug, before stretching out. "I'll go collect the eggs. Will you feed the pigs?"

"Yeah, course."

Hermione looked at him. "It won't always be like this, Harry," she said, quietly. "One day, soon, everything will get better."

How wrong she was.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

**Authors Note:**

Hopefully the story should start to pick up a little bit by chapter 4... just some back ground stuff to work through first.

Thanks for reading.

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	3. Chapter 2: Taxes

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** '_blah_' = thoughts

Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**Chapter Two: Taxes**

"More eggs, Cousin Dudley?"

Dudley didn't even glance at Harry or pause in his eating. He just grunted and grabbed the goblet of pumpkin juice. Harry tried not to roll his eyes – how Aunt Petunia ever thought she was going to be able to get someone to marry her disgusting, glutinous blob of a son completely eluded him.

As if she had read his thoughts, Petunia said, "Now, Dudley dear, try and show a bit more decorum. The Princess isn't going to be impressed if you eat like that."

Now Harry really did roll his eyes. Ah, yes, the Princess. Petunia, some years ago, had got it into her head that Dudley was, of course, going to marry the royal Princess despite the fact that, not only had the Dursleys never been to court, but that the minute Harry was 17 he was going to throw them straight into prison. They had even overlooked the fact that the Royal family were all magical – "Royalty is royalty, after all," Harry had once overheard Petunia saying to Vernon.

Of course, Harry thought, table manners were the least of Dudley's problems when it came to wooing eligible young noble women. Already fat as a baby, Dudley's size hadn't diminished over the years. In fact, he had slowly and steadily eaten his way until he was the size of a small dragon and didn't seem to be stopping anytime soon. It certainly did nothing but help reinforce the notion that he was some kind of enormous intelligent pig.

Well, semi-intelligent.

'_Poor Princess Ginevra,_' Harry thought, moving on to offer eggs to Vernon. He felt quite sorry for the faceless Princess who was fated to be the lone female of the royal siblings. The six princes of the realm – William, Charles, Percival, Frederick, George and Ronald – got to share the noble ladies of the land amongst them. Poor Ginevra had to fight off all the suitable males by herself.

He wondered what it was like for her, to be surrounded by simpering mothers, such as Aunt Petunia who were constantly trying to thrust their bumbling sons at her. Harry had trouble believing that any other mothers were as bad as _her_, or any other noblemen quite as awkward or moronic as Dudley, but still. She was only a year younger than Harry, after all. It must be very lonely.

As he often did when thinking about the Royal Family, Harry wondered whether his mother would have been like that if she had lived. Harry liked to think not – he didn't want to think that Lily Potter had anything in common with the grasping Petunia Dursley. Maybe he would have been friends with one of the Princes – he knew that Ronald, the youngest, was roughly his age.

Most of the young noble men went to Durmstrang, an exclusive boarding school for the aristocracy where the young aristocrats learnt to read, write, fence, ride and all other such things that the nobility are supposed to know. It, and the girls' equivalent Beauxbatons, were the only places in the kingdom which taught magic to those eligible nobles. Anyone else had to hire a costly private tutor. Harry knew that his father and Sirius had both attended but had realised at a very young age that the Dursleys would never allow him to go.

The one, small blessing was that Dudley did not go. Harry didn't think he would be able to stand it if Dudley had attended Durmstrang and he had been left behind. Harry found it very hard to be close to his parents, despite the endless stories recounted by Remus and Sirius. The manor house stank too much of the Dursleys to let him feel their presence and Durmstrang was the one untainted place he had left.

But if they _were_ still alive, then Harry might have met the royal family there and made friends for life, just like his dad had with Sirius.

Harry sighed quietly, now filling up Vernon's cup with hot tea. As it stood now, he wouldn't recognise royalty if they passed him in the street. All he knew about them was that they all had bright red hair. And they certainly wouldn't look twice at him.

"Nonsense, Petunia," Uncle Vernon said, in his usual barking way, making Harry jump as he was pulled from his reverie. "Our Dudley is pure charm – the Princess would be swept off her feet."

Luckily this sort of talk had been common place in the Dursley household for the past two years or so, so Harry had long ago lost the uncontrollable urge to snigger, something that in the past had earned him a few whippings. None of them had believed Aunt Petunia at first when she'd announced that Dudley was going to marry the Princess and some of them (well, Tonks) laughed outright when she heard. Aunt Petunia hadn't liked that – she'd ordered Tonks to be whipped so thoroughly that she hadn't been able to sit down properly for a week and promptly sent her out on horseback for business. Petunia had a vicious cruel streak.

"Well, it doesn't hurt to take care of the basics," Aunt Petunia sniffed, pushing half heartedly at her boiled eggs. "I know that our Dudders will win the heart of the kingdom, but a little decorum won't hurt him."

All Vernon replied to at that was "Hmm". Dudley, already on his third helping of bacon, certainly paid his mother no mind. He grunted which Harry, after long years of serving dinner, had come to interpret as "more food". As he moved round to his cousin with yet _more_ food, Aunt Petunia started rattling of the day's list to Harry.

"Now, boy," she said stiffly, as though speaking to him caused her great pain, "I want you to send that girl" – 'that girl' being Hermione as the Dursleys never bothering to learn their names – "down to the market this afternoon and buy our Duddikins some new material for clothes. He has grown out of his old court clothes" – '_Hardly surprising,_' thought Harry – "and we need some more to be made for upcoming festivities next month. It's going to be a very special time for us and if she doesn't get it exactly right there'll be no food for her for a month."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry said automatically, before doing a double take. "Wait – court? But you never..."

He shut his mouth as all the Dursleys stared at him, outraged, even Dudley (although his expression was more that of gleeful expectation. He loved seeing Harry punished). "Sorry, my Lady," Harry added quickly, hoping he wasn't going to be too strictly punished. The staffing situation was strained enough – poor Hermione would probably pass out if she had to do everything on her own today.

Either Aunt Petunia knew this or the 'My Lady' had softened her (she quite despised the fact that Harry had a right to talk to her as an equal) but there was no punishment. Instead, Aunt Petunia took in a deep breath and said, "It will need to be blue. Not those insipid turquoise colours or navy, but a nice cornflower blue. Blue brings out Dudley's eyes." Her eyes narrowed. "And I'm warning you, boy!"

"Yes, my Lady," Harry said.

"Well?" she snapped. "Get to it!"

"Yes, my Lady," Harry responded, relieved and quickly rushed towards the door before she could change her mind.

But as he was heading out the door, Aunt Petunia said, almost triumphantly, "Everything is certainly falling into place."

Harry looked back at her curiously. He didn't see what she had to be so satisfied about. Dudley still looked, ate and smelt like a pig and even if he was finally making his way into court she couldn't honestly truly expect the Princess to marry him.

Could she?

He suddenly felt cold and a sense of foreboding made him shudder. What was Aunt Petunia up to?

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

It never ceased to surprise Hermione just how many jobs there were to do in Godric's Hollow, especially considering it housed barely a fifth of its potential capacity.

But then, she mused wryly, the Dursleys were demanding enough for 10 people, not 3.

This was especially true of Petunia. Dudley was too lazy to care and Vernon just liked to yell a lot, but Petunia was exacting and shrill. If there was so much as a speck of dust in a room she would make Harry or Hermione clean out the whole room from top to bottom. And she seemed to find specks at least twice a day.

Luckily most of the time the tasks could be made easier with magic, but if Petunia ever caught them using spells she would lock them in the bare cupboard off the kitchen with no food or water for a whole day. So they had to keep a careful ear out for Petunia's sharp footsteps as they worked.

Harry and Hermione tended to share the cooking and cleaning in the house, although Harry was better at cooking and she the cleaning. Hermione also had to do the laundry and Harry had to exercise the horses, for he was an unusually good horseman. Sirius did it when he was younger, but he was often quite short tempered with the equines and they shied away from Remus, no doubt smelling the wolf on him.

Hermione didn't begrudge Harry his time with the horses. For, whilst he enjoyed the feeling of freedom cantering around the paddock brought, Hermione quickly realised that laundry entailed rather a lot of time sitting around.

Time she could spend reading.

Hermione didn't know what it was about books that held her interest so. A servant all her life, she could barely read before coming to Godric's Hollow. The Malfoys had frowned upon servant literacy almost as much as the presence of magic in the lower classes.

But Remus and Sirius were not like that. They had forced her to practice, again and again, recognising words and sounding them out until her head swam and she wanted to yell at them. But one day she managed to read an entire passage perfectly... and it was like someone had lit a fire within her. She just couldn't get enough.

It came to her that, within the pages of the often dusty tomes stored untouched in the Potter's library, there was a whole world of knowledge that she could access. Not just about magic, but about different people, different cultures, different _places_. Places, she vowed to herself, she would one day see.

But today was different. She had no time to sit around reading. Instead she set off some basic cleaning charms and dashed out of the scullery and onto the farm. Sirius had taken over the farm some years ago. He had said he liked being outside (which was true) but they all knew it was so he could spend as little a time with the Dursleys as possible.

And out of their way it kept him, for the farm was a large one. It had to be, to sustain most of what Dudley ate _and_ supply surplus to sell at the markets, not to mention feed themselves as well. Dursleys cared much more about making money at market then ensuring their servants were well fed. If productivity fell then they would go hungry.

Luckily for Sirius, however, the Dursleys knew absolutely _nothing_ about farming, which meant they weren't at all suspicious with just how much food he could produce all on his own without losing any to insects or disease. Hermione knew he felt a sadistic sort of glee knowing that the Dursleys ate magicked food every single night.

Well, he had to get his kicks somehow.

"Hermione!"

Hermione jumped from her musings to see Harry jogging across the field to her, lugging a big wicker basket. "Hi, Harry – how's your morning been?"

"Same old," Harry shrugged, but he looked a bit unsettled. "I don't know," he said, when Hermione asked him what was wrong. "I've just got a bad feeling."

"Is it about Remus?" Hermione asked, anxiously. She had grown especially close to Remus over the past few years as he was a dedicated scholar, just like herself.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head, although he, too, was worried about the werewolf. "Just something Aunt Petunia said..." He trailed off, uncertain.

After a pause, Hermione gave herself a little shake. "Well, whatever it is it'll come when it comes," she said sensibly. "What we do know, however, is that we'll get flogged if we don't get the vegetables in."

As she'd hoped, Harry laughed at her practical mind. "Well, actually Aunt Petunia has instructed me to give you another job."

Hermione frowned at him. She didn't often get specific jobs from the Dursleys. "What does she want?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Apparently there's going to be some big hoo-ha up at the palace next month and they want you to get some material for court clothes for Dudley."

Hermione's jaw actually dropped open. "You mean they're actually going?" she squeaked, shocked. "I mean, they've talked about it for years but they've never even touched the gates before now."

Harry frowned. "I know," he said, shifting awkwardly. "That's what Aunt Petunia was talking about that got me so worried. I've just got a bad feeling about all this," he proclaimed again, staring off into the distance, expression troubled.

"Well, you never know," Hermione said, after an uneasy pause, "Maybe Dudley will end up the marrying the Princess and leave you and Godric's Hollow alone. That's all you've ever really wanted."

Harry gave a shout of laughter. "Poor Princess!" Harry said, laughing. "Hermione, that's really cruel."

"Well..." Hermione smiled a little. "I suppose that might be a little mean."

"A little? Bloody Merlin, I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy!"

"I thought Dudley _was_ your worst enemy?"

Harry started laughing again and Hermione smiled, relieved the tension had gone. She wasn't sure Harry had noticed, but he tended to get a bad feeling just before something awful happened. Usually it was just before someone was fired and their duties were upped once more. The last time had been a day before Tonks had fallen off her horse and nearly been trampled to death. Hermione wasn't sure if it was because he was very good at reading the Dursleys or if he had some latent talent in foretelling (even if it did seem to her to be a very wishy-washy side of magic) but she had learned to respect Harry's bad feelings.

Even if he didn't.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

"Inflamare!"

Harry grinned as the weed blew apart in smouldering ash leaving the plants nearby intact. Sirius had made him practice that particular spell again and again until he could burn a single twig on a broomstick (an ordinary one, not one of their few, prized flying ones) before he would let him anywhere _near_ his garden.

Sirius was somewhat protective of his plants.

"Inflamare!"

Harry grinned as he managed to burn two separate weeds together. Hermione was much better at this than him – on a good day she could simultaneously burn all the weeds in a three foot radius and leave nay a singe on the vegetables.

But then Hermione was just good at magic.

Idly imploding weeds, Harry pondered his best friend. Hermione probably didn't know – in fact, Harry was certain she'd be utterly confused and horrified – but Harry often felt sorry for the muggle-born witch. She was far too bright to waste her days as a lowly servant. It did not seem fair that she could never have the chance to learn, to make something of herself.

Why, if it hadn't been for a chance encounter with Tonks she would most likely have died – either on the streets, or after being caught up with the so-called Death Eaters out in the forests

Well, he was going to follow in his father's footsteps. One of the first things he had learned about James was that his father didn't care where people had come from. He saw people as people, not servants and masters. When he was rightfully recognised as Earl they would all be free. Hermione, Remus, Sirius and Tonks wouldn't be servants any longer, their pride be damned. They would be equals.

He smiled as he blasted a particularly gnarled, blobby looking weed imagining it was Dudley.

Yep, change was round the corner now.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Hermione left the cloth shop feeling better than before. Whilst she detested spending any money on the Dursleys, especially Dudley, she did enjoy seeing Arabella again.

Hermione had only been at Godric's Hollow a few months before the Dursleys had fired the old nursemaid, as they had so many of the other staff. But Arabella had spent more than a decade looking after Harry and she was determined not to go too far.

So she had petitioned her old friend, Madam Malkin, to give her a job in her local clothing shop, working as a seamstress. Although she was old and her eye sight was poor now, Madam Malkin had not the heart to turn away her friend and now Arabella kept shop for her.

It hadn't been easy scrounging together enough blue silk to cover Dudley's vast bulk, but between the two of them they devised a suitable design that would look expensive enough to satisfy the Dursleys but used the least amount of fabric and money.

As always, however, happiness didn't last long and instead Hermione found her feet dragging the closer she got back to the Manor. '_I should really hurry,_' she told herself. '_I've still got about a hundred chores to do and it's already getting late,_' she added, the sun already beginning to set in the sky.

But instead she found herself looking at the trees and flowers lining the sides of the dusty road and her pace lagging even more. It was sometimes hard to appreciate how beautiful the world was when she was at Godric's Hollow. True, she had four amazing friends – _family_, she amended – but everything around them was tainted by the Dursleys and it was hard to appreciate anything, knowing that any one of the Dursleys could turn up and take it away or spoil it whenever they felt like it.

Sometimes she thought wistfully back to her half remembered early years with the Malfoys. Yes, they were a snooty, cold family who looked at servants as mere objects, but they were _indifferent_. The Dursleys were downright vindictive, especially when it came to Harry.

"NOOOOOO!"

Hermione stopped, shocked, as the scream ripped through the peaceful air. '_Sweet Merlin, that was Harry,_' she thought, feeling cold. She had never heard him yell like that before. Something was horribly wrong.

Hermione picked up her skirts and started running, basket of blue silk forgotten and tumbling onto the dusty road. She wasn't too far from the Mansion, but the trees that lined the avenue blocked her view of the house. But, between the thuds of her feet on the ground and the panting of her breath, she thought she could make out muffled thuds and yells, though none so clear as the first one.

Even worse, she could see the faint colours of spell fire.

That was bad. _Really_ bad. Harry would never use magic that obvious unless his life was in danger. Hermione picked up her speed, Harry's words of earlier echoing in her mind: "_I've just got a bad feeling...something Aunt Petunia said."_

Hermione tore round the gates and faltered, horrified.

At the front of the house was a heavily laden cart, being loaded up with various bits of furniture, vases and other heirlooms of the Potter household. By the front door, a white faced Vernon and Dudley stood watching, whilst four men in red pulled themselves shakily off the floor. A fifth man in red stood smirking.

In the centre, frozen and confused, was Harry, staring in shock at the Aunt who had just slapped him across the face.

He was clapped in irons.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Harry was kicking himself.

Or he _would_ be, if he wasn't currently occupied by kicking the strange men that had decided to grab him.

He wasn't quite sure how it had all happened. One moment he was quite happily summoning apples off the trees in the orchard (making a game out of it, too – he was well on his way to beating his previous record) when his Aunt Petunia had suddenly appeared behind him.

"Er... Aunt Petunia," Harry said, whipping his wand out of sight and feeling sweat break out on his forehead: catching someone using magic usually meant 20 lashes and two days without food.

But, despite the pinching of her lips, all Aunt Petunia had said was "Boy, we need you out front. Move." And then she turned briskly and went away.

Harry had figured that, for once, his aunt had realised just how understaffed they were and let him off the hook.

Yes: he was an idiot.

So, feeling oddly light, Harry dropped off the apples in the kitchen before hurriedly running round the front to see what his Aunt needed. And then he saw it.

It was just a cart: nothing special really. Creaking, tired wooden slats pulled by dull, listless horses. But it was not the cart that stopped Harry dead in his tracks. It was what was being loaded on it.

"What are you _doing_?" Harry yelled, horrified.

It was as though sound stopped for a second. His aunt and uncle, Dudley, even the men loading the cart, all stopped and turned to stare at him. Harry knew he should care – he couldn't remember _ever_ yelling at the Dursleys like that before and, Merlin knew, they beat him bad enough already – but nothing had enraged him quite so much as this.

"We're selling this useless stuff," Aunt Petunia said simply, face cold as marble.

She didn't even reprimand him for his attitude. Warning bells were starting to go off in Harry's head, but he ignored them. "'_Useless stuff_'?" he repeated, clenching his fists. "These are my _parents_ possessions!" He motioned angrily to the pile of tapestries, books, vases and various other artefacts that had lived in Godric's Hollow for as long as he could remember.

"Wrong," Petunia corrected him coldly, pursing her lips. "They are _our_ possessions and, as such, we can do what we like with them."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. They'd been trying to erase all memory of his parents for years, but they had never done anything so obvious before now. "They are _NOT_ your possessions," Harry growled, hand going to his wand. "They are _MY _possessions and I _refuse_ to sit by and watch you sell them in order to spend any more money on my useless, charmless, LUMP of a cousin!"

Petunia smiled frostily at him. "_You_," she said, gesturing at the men, "are not my problem anymore."

And that's when Harry found himself fighting for his life.

'_Is this really happening?!_' Harry thought to himself, feeling himself fighting and punching the men surrounding him but from a strange distance, as though it was not really him fighting at all. It suddenly came to him that he was not only an idiot, but an idiot twice, thrice over.

'_You're a wizard, Harry_,' he told himself, exasperated. '_Use your bloody wand!_'

Of course, by this point, this was easily said than done as both his arms well being held back and he was being inched towards a cart he hadn't seen before – a cart with a cage on the back...

"NOOOOOOOOOO!"

Finding a new surge of strength he managed to free his right hand and grab his wand. After that the four men fell easily, muggles that they were they had no idea how to fight a wizard.

"_Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Reducto!"_

Harry smiled to himself as he rounded on his relatives. The Dursleys had finally gone too far and nearly 16 years of torment and anguish were finally going to catch up with them. He had put up with them for long enough and now they were going to pay, minor or no.

"INCARCEROUS!"

Harry froze, dread filling him as he was struck by the spell. Iron handcuffs immediately materialised over Harry's hands and feet, squeezing his wrists and ankles painfully. There was a strange magic in the irons, too: Harry couldn't move his limbs, almost as if he'd been hit by the petrificus curse. He looked round in consternation. What had happened?

As Harry looked over in shocked confusion as a fifth man, one he hadn't seen earlier, came round the side of the cart and smirked at him as he twirled his wand idly round his fingers. "Dear me, my Lady," he tutted, "I see what you mean about a rebellious servant." He shot a look over to the triumphant looking Petunia. "I'm surprised you didn't call us in sooner."

"Well, what's done is done," Petunia said, matter of factly, walking down the steps at the front of the manor and approaching Harry. "His wand?" she added, sharply.

"Of course, my Lady," the wizard said, reaching over and simply plucking it out of Harry's helpless hand. Bending the wood quickly he snapped it and let the pieces fall to the floor. Harry looked down at the splinters, feeling hollow. That had been his father's wand, one of the few things that had been salvaged from the crash. He'd had that wand almost since he could hold one.

"Aunt Petunia, what are you doing?" Harry croaked, hating how desperate he sounded.

She slapped him.

Harry, his head ringing, looked up to see his Aunt sneer at him. "How _dare_ you speak so familiar with me, _servant_," she hissed, low enough that only he could hear her. Her eyes shined in hate. "You are nothing more than a burden thrown upon my poor family, cheeking us, shirking your duties, using that _unnatural_ magic whenever you could. You are a lowly, evil little freak... and we've had enough."

She straightened up and walked away. "Take him away," she said to the fifth man, who smirked and motioned to his colleagues. They moved in on him menacingly.

"Aunt Petunia!" Harry yelled, suddenly feeling terrified for the first time in his life. "AUNT PETUNIA!"

She didn't look back.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

As Harry watched his one remaining blood relative disappear inside his own house, he felt something inside him break. He had never thought he had any illusions about his relatives. They had treated him – treated them all – like slaves, vindictively destroying anything he enjoyed and torturing poor Remus every month. But he had never thought that even they would go so far as to throw him in jail.

"Get off me!" Harry yelled, trying to struggle as the first of the men grabbed him and began hauling over to the cage. But it was no good: the enchantment still held him strong and one of the men hit him on the head for his efforts.

As Harry swore, his vision swimming, he heard a new voice enter the fray.

"No! What are you _doing_?! Let GO of him!_"_

Harry turned his head and felt his stomach plummet. Hermione, eyes streaming tears which she didn't seem to notice, was running full pelt down the drive. "No, Hermione, go back!" he croaked, trying to twist round to see her better, but she didn't hear.

"Oi, shut it," one of the grunts said, shaking him hard making his already aching head spin more.

"Yes, prisoners don't talk," the wizard said oily and snapped, "_Silencio._" He ignored the furious Harry and turned instead to look at Hermione, who had just come to a halt in front of them, panting and livid. "Move out of the way, girl," he sneered. "This delinquent is now the property of the King."

"What are you _talking_ about?" Hermione snapped, hands curling into fists. She looked about three seconds short of cursing them all. "He's _nobody's_ property! How dare you!"

"Shut your mouth, wench," the red wizard said, voice cold. "What your master and mistress do with their servants are none of your business."

"Release him," Hermione said slowly, eyes almost glowing they were so angry. Harry saw her hand reaching slowly to where he knew she kept her wand and suddenly he felt cold.

"No, Hermione!" he tried to say, but nothing came out. He felt panicky – it was bad enough that he was to rot alone in a jail cell for the rest of his life; he didn't want the same to happen to her. He settled for shaking his head madly, but either Hermione didn't notice or she ignored him.

The wizard's mouth smirked up in amusement. "And you're going to stop me _how_, little girl?" he sneered. "I am the King's man, this servant has just been sold to me and I have all the power of the law on my side."

Harry saw Hermione falter at that. She knew what it meant: if she struck out at any of them, she could end up in jail with Harry. But Hermione stuck out her chin and persevered angrily. "I'm telling you, you have to let him go!" she cried. "He's not a servant! He's Earl Harry Potter – this is his land, his estate – _Petunia_ has no right to sell him. If you sell him then you're committing a crime."

Harry turned his head away as the men all broke out into laughter at that. He knew how it looked: powerful, immaculately dressed Lady Petunia versus the word of rebellious, dirty, female servant. He knew who _he _would believe were he in their shoes.

Hermione had gone red in the face at their sniggers. She knew that she had no chance, but couldn't give up on him. "Let him GO!" she yelled, and reached for her wand.

As if this had been the signal he had been waiting for, the red wizard flourished his own wand, yelling "Expelliarmus!" and Hermione shot back through the trees, wand flying far away. Hermione herself went straight into a tree, instantly crumpling to the floor.

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!" Harry yelled, panicking, but the silencing charm was still in place. He struggled as best as he could then, trying to get to his best friend and see if she was alright. But the men were having none of it.

"Enough of this nonsense," the red wizard snapped, motioning towards Harry. Harry felt the hands tug at him once more and tried even harder, but nothing he did had any effect. It was as though his brain had been disconnected from the rest of his body. As he was pulled further and further back he stared at the tree, watching and willing the bushy haired girl to rise: not to rescue him, but so that he could see she was alright.

They threw Harry into the cage and he silently cried out as his head hit the metal bars, causing his vision to swim before his eyes. One good thing about the cage, though, was that the freezing charm of the handcuffs was neutralised and he could move again.

As the cart jolted forward, Harry stumbled to the end and watched Godric's Hollow disappear feeling empty inside. It was the only home he had ever known and he both loved and hated it. He loved it because of its connection with his parents and not just them, but all the Potters. They had owned the mansion for generations, each one farming the same land, sitting in the same chairs, reading the same dusty books.

The reason he also hated it was because of the Dursleys, how they had pushed aside everything that made it special and tried to turn it into their own especially awful brand of fakery and falseness, not to mention vindictive spite. They covered up everything that was good and made it something ugly and nasty.

But what he felt most, as he was pulled slowly further away, was disappointment. He had planned for years what he would do when he officially took up his role of Earl: how he would change the house, how he would treat his own servants, how he would deal with his tenants. How he would uncover everything that the Dursleys had tried to hide and make it brilliant again.

Now all those dreams were put to waste.

Harry curled up in the side of the cage and began to cry.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

**Authors Note:**

This is, by far, one of the hardest things I've had to write. Ever. I don't know what it is about it, but I really struggled with this. I've rewritten it about 20 times. As a result, I'm not too happy with how it's turned out, even now, but I wanted to post it so I could move on. The rest of the story I'm having absolutely _no_ trouble with (well, so far) so hopefully there shouldn't be such a delay updating from now on. Maybe I'll come back and re do this part at some point.

So apologies for this chapter, but please don't give up on my story yet. The next few chapters are a lot better and we start to get the main Ever After storyline coming in.

Thanks for reading,

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	4. Chapter 3: Aftermath

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** '_blah_' = thoughts

Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**Chapter Three: Aftermath**

Hermione Granger always woke with the sun. It was not only a habit, it was necessary if she wanted to have any time to herself before the Dursleys awoke. Luckily for her, the Dursleys were generally a very lazy lot so if she woke up at the right time, she could get quite a bit done before she needed to start thinking about her morning chores. She stretched out her stiff muscles, cursing as she realised that she'd, once again, fallen asleep in front of the fireplace. That meant it was probably quite a bit later than she had thought and she'd have to hurry to get her chores done. Belatedly, she wondered why Harry hadn't woken her…

Then she remembered: he was gone.

She bit back a sob, feeling fear and loss squeeze her heart. She still couldn't believe they'd done it, that they'd sold him like a piece of furniture, to pay off their debts after they'd squandered all of Harry's own money on themselves and _Dudley_.

She supposed she couldn't be too surprised. After all, they treated him just like a servant – worse, even – when he was the rightful owner of the Potter estate. She'd only been here four years – she couldn't even begin to imagine what it must be like to live your entire life under their thumb.

She shuddered, the events of yesterday flashed across her mind and suddenly she was back, reliving it all...

_Hermione heard the men laughing, heard them struggle with Harry and throw him in the cage. She heard them drive away._

_She sobbed into the ground, feeling helpless, as she struggled to get to her feet and chase after them, yelling and cursing. But she had hit her head too hard and just breathing made her head scream in agony and her stomach try to heave out what little she had had to eat that day. So she just lay there, listening to the laughing jeers of the men and the ever growing fainter sounds of the carriage._

_By the time Hermione could sit up and open her eyes, he was gone. She stared hollowly down the dusty drive, not knowing what to think. Her thoughts were all swirling around her in a chaotic mess, much like her life. Her mind jumped from rage at the Dursleys, to wondering what would happen to Harry now, to fretting about what on earth she would tell Sirius and Remus, to wondering, rather ridiculously, what had happened to the stupid blue silk for Dudley._

_Eventually, though, she got to her feet and wandered about, searching for her wand. It wasn't really her wand, not in the standard sense. Only the very rich could afford to have their own wand made. Hermione's wand was second hand and had belonged to Harry's mother, Lily._

_Finding it amongst the foxgloves, Hermione picked it up and placed it reverently in her pocket. Then she scrounged around on the ground to pick up the pathetic splinters of Harry's old wand, stuffing as much as she could alongside Lily's wand. She wondered how Lily and James would have reacted, if they were still alive. But then, Hermione reasoned, if they were then this never would have happened. _

_Hermione walked round the back of the house, feet moving automatically, her mind elsewhere. Ducking into the kitchen, she sat down in front of the empty cold fire place and stared at it with unseeing eyes. She could hear the distant thuds that signified the Dursleys were moving about up there, but she paid them no mind. She felt completely numb._

_Or maybe not completely numb. She winced, feeling her head still throbbing. Gingerly, Hermione put a hand to her hair and felt blood. That must have been where she hit the tree, she mused, still feeling detached, and carefully pulled out her wand. Whispering a healing charm, she gritted her teeth as the spell coolly did its work, knitting together the skin and disinfecting the wound with a sharp sting._

_As soon as it was finished, Hermione found herself come back to awareness with a jolt._

_And then she realised just how incredibly angry she was._

_Hermione Granger was finally pissed off._

Hermione shook her head, determined not to let the tears fall, wondering at her foolishness. She had gone upstairs, full of rage, to hex the Dursleys to oblivion and what had they done?

Ordered her to make tea.

Hermione actually laughed at that, albeit a little hysterical. Tea! They had illegally sold their own nephew – their own _noble _nephew – to deportation for crimes _they_ had enacted against _him_! It was laughable, really, if it wasn't so awful.

Hermione had yelled at them, screamed and swore and they had shouted back. The worst thing about it was that Hermione understood why they had done it. It was only a month or so until Harry was old enough to turn them out of the house and imprison them all for what they'd done to him. They'd simply ensured he couldn't by doing it first.

What Hermione couldn't understand was how they honestly thought they'd get away with it. The King's ministers hadn't listened to Sirius and Remus all those years ago, true, but didn't the Dursleys think that they'd get a _little_ bit suspicious when Earl Potter never appeared at court?

In the end Hermione had gotten so frustrated that she had tried to curse Dudley. Unfortunately she had missed (not due to Dudley having excellent reflexes but because he'd by chance just dropped some food on the floor and was bending over to get it) and Vernon had promptly thrown her down the stairs into the kitchen, locking her in overnight.

Hermione felt it was a bit of compensation that all three Dursleys had to go hungry that night.

A cock crowed outside, jerking Hermione back to the present. Getting to her feet, still determinedly not crying, her hand shot out automatically to grab the book that toppled from her lap. It was "Alchemy in the Modern Age", the book Harry had given her for her sixteenth birthday. It evaded her grasp, however, and like some cruel cosmic joke landed open, displaying the message Harry had scrawled inside:

"To Hermione, devoted book reader, even with a lack of books to read. Love, Harry"

The tears finally started to fall.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Sirius, weak and tired, stumbled into the kitchen and found her there, still sobbing, clutching her book to her as though it might somehow bring Harry back to them. He stopped, a feeling of foreboding taking over.

"Hermione?" he rasped out, holding on to the table for support. Last night's full moon had been a particularly hard one. Remus had just recovered from a sickness he had been made to work through ever since last month and the effect of the silver had been particularly nasty. It had taken nearly everything Sirius had to keep his old friend alive through the ordeal. He hadn't even needed to change into Padfoot, the wolf was so weak. Instead he had stayed human all night, whispering encouragement, trying to keep Moony's spirit up.

At his croak, Hermione whipped round, startled, before stumbling to her feet and speaking a mile a minute. "Oh, Sirius," she gasped, "I'm sorry, I couldn't stop them. Not with Tonks being away and you two…" she trailed off, swallowing, before launching back in to speech. "I tried to stop them, I really did. I just couldn't – they – you know they hate him, but I never, _never_ thought… I mean, he's their nephew! But then they've always – "

"Stop!" Sirius bellowed, a hollow feeling in his stomach as the startled girl stopped talking. "What's going on, Hermione – what… what did they do to Harry?"

"They… they sold him," Hermione replied, faintly.

Sirius couldn't believe his ears. "They – they _what_?"

Hermione looked at him tearfully. "You know how much debt they're in – they've squandered the entire manor's money. Some men came in yesterday and just dragged him away. They sold him to pay their taxes."

There was a startled silence. "They can't – he's a _noble_ – he's the owner of this house – it's _his_ money they're all living off!"

"They said as it was _his_ taxes that had to be paid and _he_ who no longer had any money they thought it fitting that he should pay. They said they didn't see why _they_ should loose a servant and suffer for it because of _his_ faulty finances!"

Sirius was now gaping at Hermione like a fish, before going purple. "I'm going to kill them," he growled, shoving Hermione to the side as he made for the stairs. "I'm going to bloody murder them in their sleep. Bastards!"

"Sirius, no!" Hermione hissed, alarmed, even though that's exactly what she felt like doing at the moment. "You'll be hung if you kill a member of the nobility – and what about Remus?"

But Sirius was beyond reasoning. Reaching the kitchen door he hauled it open, wandlessly summoning a kitchen knife to him. He was serious.

"Sirius!" Hermione hissed again, before whipping out her wand. "Stupefy! Accio Knife!"

Sirius, intent on revenge – retribution – whatever you wanted to call it – never heard the quiet curses from the teenager behind him. Knife safely whisked out of harms way he toppled to the floor unconscious. Levitating him back into the kitchen, Hermione deposited him safely by the fire, before hiding the rest of the knives. It crossed her mind that if Sirius was really serious then putting the knives in a locked cupboard was unlikely to stop him, but she ignored it.

That done, she sat down, drew her knees up to her chest and cried until the bell began to ring for breakfast.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

"What's taking so long? I'm hungry!"

Dudley's whining voice made Hermione stop just outside the door. Oh, how she hated the greedy wretch, but there was nothing she could do about it. She entertained herself for a few minutes with the idea of spilling hot tea in his lap, but decided the lashing she'd receive for her "clumsiness" wasn't worth it.

Not for the first time, Hermione wondered what on earth she was doing. By all rights she should have run off in the night, getting out whilst she had the chance. If Petunia could do that to her own nephew, then surely she wouldn't think twice about doing it to any of the rest of them. But, if she was honest with herself, Hermione didn't know what else to do. Godric's Hollow was her home and had been for four years now. She had tried living on the streets before and almost died. She didn't think she could do that again.

But things were different now. She had a family and had control of her magic. She wouldn't have to be on her own. Remus and Sirius would be both conscious soon and they would know what to do. But in the meantime she had to play her part and, for now, her part meant breakfast.

"I'm sure breakfast won't be much longer, Dudley, darling," came Petunia's voice, sickly sweet, before the icy indignation took over. "It's very rude of her to keep us waiting this long – we've been here nearly five minutes. She'd better be here soon."

Recognising the icy threat, Hermione gritted her teeth against the anger that flared and entered the room. Almost at once she was met with frosty glares. Dropping her eyes to the floor, Hermione curtsied. "My Lord, my Lady." Trying to keep the contempt out of her voice, Hermione added, "Master Dudley."

There was a pause and Hermione wondered how the Dursleys were going to react. She didn't dare look up at them. That wasn't a small argument they had had last night – Hermione had yelled and swore for all her worth and they weren't going to let that go in a hurry. She suspected the fact that they had no idea how to make their own food (and because they considered that sort of thing beneath them) was the only reason Petunia hadn't called back that red wizard and sold her right alongside Harry. So that begged the question: how were they going to deal with yesterday?

Apparently by pretending it had never happened.

"Well," thundered Vernon, "aren't you going to apologise for your tardiness, girl?"

Hermione looked up, startled, but was thankfully interrupted by Dudley. "Never mind that, father – I'm _starving_ and if it's much longer all the food will be cold. Come here, wench."

"Now, Dudley," reprimanded his mother. "You shouldn't use such foul language in the dining room."

Dudley made no response, already starting on the food that Hermione laid in front of him. Despite his devotion to wolfing down all his food, he still managed to spare a hand to grab Hermione with. She stiffened and moved out of the range of his grabbing hands, finding herself going red with anger. She looked over at him, before catching the eyes of Vernon. He looked at her, as though daring her to say something. She looked down, cursing both him and herself, before moving on to Petunia, who hadn't seen anything.

"Now, Dudley, we're not going to impress the Princess if you eat like that, darling," Aunt Petunia was saying, pursing her lips at Dudley's pig like eating skills.

Hermione tried not to snort at the comment – both in derision and disbelief. They had had this same conversation at one meal or another almost every single day for the past two years. As Hermione automatically served Petunia her eggs she couldn't believe that the Dursleys were treating this as just another day: that they _hadn't_ just sold their relative into slavery or that she _hadn't_ tried to curse them all last night. She was expecting at least a _little_ bit of tension...

"Don't be silly, Petunia," Vernon interjected, leaning back in his chair. "Dudley is a proper gentleman at all times – it is not his fault if he was starved due to the laziness of a wretch of a serving girl."

Petunia pursed her lips as Hermione finished serving her and moved on to Vernon. "Hmm, yes. I don't like that girl, Vernon – she caused such a scene yesterday – and attempting to use… _you know what_ – absolutely obscene."

Hermione felt her insides twinge at this, both with fear and anger. She was long used to being talked about as if she wasn't there - the Dursleys considered themselves too far above servants to notice them more than they had to – but calling what she did last night just a 'scene'? It made her sound as though she had just thrown a tantrum or broken some plates in front of the King. She ground her teeth and forced herself to continue serving Vernon, even if her movements were a bit jerky.

"Yes, well, unfortunately, we don't have enough money to hire a replacement for that boy," Vernon commented, causing Hermione to stiffen in anger. 'That boy' was Harry – their own nephew – and they…

"Are you somehow stuck?"

The icy enquiry came from Vernon as Hermione realised that she had frozen, bowl of eggs halfway towards Vernon's plate. With a little bit more force than she had intended, she plonked Vernon's eggs down before stepping back. "Forgive me, my Lord," she apologised, curtsying again. "I was… distracted."

"Yes, by our conversation, you rude chit," Vernon snarled. "Be very careful, girl – much more cheek out of you and it'll be the lash, mark my words."

Hermione swallowed, looking down as she curtsied. "Yes, my Lord."

She looked up to see Petunia staring at her in a calculating way and couldn't help but shudder. So she wasn't going to get away with yesterday then. No doubt the 'lady of the manor' was planning some sort of appropriate punishment and, unfortunately knowing Petunia as well as she did, Hermione knew it wasn't going to be pretty. Petunia gave a small, nasty smile, no doubt knowing the cause of Hermione's fear, before dismissing her. "Get gone."

Surprised, Hermione curtsied. "Yes, my lady."

She backed out of the room, trying not to show her relief. Usually she had to stand in there until they'd finished, trying to ignore their petty conversation and find something to interest her. Today, though, she'd been more worried about cursing them to oblivion, especially if they had said just _one _more thing about poor Harry.

However, as Hermione hurried down the cold, empty corridors of Godric's Hollow, her thoughts were not on her best friend. Instead, they lingered on an exhausted, sleeping werewolf, on the other side of the house.

How on earth was she going to tell him?

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Harry sat huddled in the dank cell, trying to get warm. It was not easy. The cells were in the dungeons of the castle, under the moat, and there was no natural light anywhere. Most of the cells were wet and slimy and he shivered in his thin, summer garments.

Not for the first time, Harry wished he had his wand. A simple warming charm would make things so much more bearable. '_Not to mention,_' Harry thought, with a touch of wry humour that surprised him, '_I could get the bloody hell out of here..._'

He had arrived at the cells in the evening, having first gone through a sort of central hub. Along with a score of other detainees Harry had been hauled up in front of a judge, a squint eyed, bitter old noble who looked as though he drank far too much. He hadn't even looked at the mass of bodies before pronouncing that they were to be deported to the Americas.

Another set of red robed guards had quickly hustled them off and into another cage before Harry had time to be surprised. He would have thought that he would be going to Azkaban, not deported. He wasn't quite sure whether to be relieved or not. He had heard many horror stories about Azkaban from Sirius and Remus, guarded by the terrifying dementors, so he supposed a new life in an exotic location instead of rotting away, driven insane by his own thoughts, on a miserable rock in the middle of the sea, was certainly a plus.

But America was so _big_. Not to mention extremely far away. If he got sent there, he didn't know how in the world Sirius would ever find him or if he could ever get back. On the other hand, no one _had_ ever escaped from Azkaban before... not that Harry thought that would stop Sirius. The question was would he still have been sane when they managed to get him out?

He felt a pang in his chest as he wondered about his adopted family and what they were doing. He hoped Remus and Hermione had managed to stop Sirius from killing the Dursleys, even though a part of him secretly hoped he had. His poor Godfather had been through so much, he didn't deserve to be sent to Azkaban or, worse, executed.

The same could be said for Remus. Harry knew how guilty he felt every full moon, when the burden of the estate fell upon just Harry and Hermione. Harry knew that Remus would be swallowed up by guilt, thinking that if he had never been bitten, then both he and Sirius would have been there to stop Petunia. And Tonks wouldn't even know! She was on the other side of the country doing business for his wretched relatives. Would he already be in America when she found out? Or would he still be on a ship somewhere out at sea?

And Hermione. Did she get into trouble for last night? Was she hurt by that last spell? She was only just stirring by the time the cart had taken Harry out of sight, down the long, humiliating ride to the hub. People had come out of their houses to throw vegetables at him, swear and curse him. Harry found it very hard not to hate them for that, not to scream back at them that he was innocent, that he didn't deserve to be there. But he knew the crowd loved that and it would just spur them on.

So he had just stayed sat in his corner, numb.

A groan... Harry looked over at the other convicts in his cell. There were only five of them so far, but Harry had heard the guards talking and knew that more were being sent over later today. It had been hard enough fighting over food the last night, the other men all larger than Harry they had easily pushed him aside. Harry gingerly raised a hand to touch his swollen eye, where someone had clipped it with their elbow. It would be even tougher getting food once the new arrivals had come in.

And tomorrow?

Harry repressed a shudder of fear.

Tomorrow he was being deported.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

"Eeurgh…" Remus moaned, unable to move. He ached all over. Even his bones seemed to be pounding, matching the answering throb in his head. He had never had such an awful full moon before. Even when he had first transformed – widely acknowledged to be the worst – the pain after could come nowhere near matching the agony he was now in. Even breathing hurt.

It was one of the few times that he wished he could just die right there – then the pain would go away. Then he would never have to go through something like that again. But he never did. He just carried on, doing his work, until the next full moon – the next bout of pain – was gone.

It had never been so bad when James was alive. _He_ hadn't lined a basement with silver and shoved Remus down there every full moon. He – with Sirius and Peter – had become animagi for him – kept him company… kept him sane. But he was gone now…

'_Better not think of that_,' Remus told himself, '_not now_.'

Remus hated the Dursleys more than he had hated anyone before – even the werewolf who had turned him in the first place. Knowing both Sirius and Remus would never leave whilst Harry was there, they had a freedom of sorts. They could do this to Remus – torture him like this – because Harry was still here and Remus would never leave him. Likewise with Sirius – neither of them got paid anymore and both were doing the work of at least twenty men, but they couldn't leave or complain.

The door creaked open, pulling Remus from his dark thoughts. He was in his room, now, where Sirius had brought him once the moon had gone down. Trying not to grimace, Remus turned to smile at Harry, who would have his breakfast.

"Hermione?"

"Hello, Remus," Hermione greeted, carefully not looking at him.

Remus frowned. "Where's Harry?"

Hermione swallowed. "He's… he's somewhere else."

Remus looked at her carefully. "He's running an errand for the Dursleys?"

"You… you could say that," Hermione agreed, picking up a spoon full of porridge. She still wouldn't meet his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Bloody awful," Remus admitted, before narrowing his eyes. "Hermione, you're not a very good actress – where's Harry? What've they done to him?"

Hermione fidgeted nervously. "You should rest, Remus – you look awful."

"Hermione…"

She sighed. "Now, just – don't try and do anything – you're in a bad enough shape as it is," she warned, putting the porridge bowl down. "They… they sold him."

Remus stared at her. He was sure he must have heard her wrong.

"Sold him?" he repeated. "You can't _sell_ a member of the nobility!"

"I _know_ that, Remus!" Hermione snapped, eyes filling up with tears. She gave one large sob before managing to control herself. "_They _know that, _everyone_ bloody knows that... but they did it anyway."

Remus couldn't believe it. Slowly, over the past ten years, everything had been ripped away from him. First his best friends, people who had never turned away from him, despite what he was, were killed. Then they were replaced by, he could say with complete honesty, the _worst_ people that had ever existed.

He had suffered through the gradual loss of all his friends as the Dursleys squandered Harry's estate and both fired and sold off servants to pay their debts. Nearly every month he came close to death in his silver cage they had constructed for him and lost whatever tiny income he'd had to pay for this poison.

He had watched, helpless, as the little boy he loved suffered from horrendous neglect and turned from a happy little toddler to the quiet, impoverished boy he now was.

And now Harry, the one person he had struggled through this hellish existence for, was gone.

'_Oh, Lily, James... how I have failed you..._'

Loud sobs reached his ears and he belatedly realised that Hermione was crying. "Oh, Hermione," he said, before drawing the distraught teenager into his arms. "Oh, Hermione, don't cry."

"I tried to stop them, I really did," Hermione cried, tears falling so thickly now that they were soaking into his frayed shirt. "I even tried to stun them but there was a wizard with them a-and he dis-disarmed me before I could r-really do anything!"

"Did they know?" Remus wanted to know. "Did they know who he was?"

"N-No," Hermione choked. "They just laughed wh-when I told them."

"Those Dursley bastards."

Hermione gave a wet, derisive chuckle. "Tha-that's just what Sirius said."

Shocked, Remus pulled her back from him. "Sirius? Oh Merlin," he swore, feeling another surge of fear. "What has he done?"

But Hermione was shaking her head. "N-nothing." When Remus looked at her in disbelief, she added, "I stunned him. He was going to kill them."

"They deserve it," Remus said quietly, "but Sirius doesn't deserve Azkaban."

They sat there for a moment in heavy silence. What Hermione was thinking, Remus didn't know, but his thoughts were occupied with ideas of escape. "We should make plans to get out of here."

Hermione looked at him, shocked. "How do you mean?"

"We have to let someone know what they've done," Remus said, feeling resolve hardening. "They might ignore letters about abuse but this? This is a far more serious offence. The King _has_ to hear us out."

"The King?" Hermione spluttered, terrified. "He won't listen to us!"

But Remus felt a new determination settle over him. "Oh, yes, he will! I'll _make_ him listen if I have to."

"But where will we go?"

Remus looked down at the girl he'd come to regard as a daughter. She looked up at him with big, brown, teary and terrified eyes and it suddenly struck her just how young she was. Just sixteen – this was going to be tough on her.

'_But then how tough is it going to be for Harry?_' he thought, feeling that knot of tight determination again. '_Just turned sixteen and sold into slave labour by his guardians?_'

"We won't decide anything now," he soothed her, pulling her into another hug. "After all, we have to wait till Tonks comes back – and for Sirius to come to."

Hermione gave another wet laugh at that, before she started crying again.

And, rocking Hermione gently, Remus let his world dissolve into tears and despair. In a long run of awful days, this was by far and away the _worst_ day of his life.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

**Authors Note:**

A bit of a depressing chapter, but things begin to pick up in the next chapter and we meet Ron and Ginny for the first time. Yay!

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	5. Chapter 4: Escape!

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** '_blah_' = thoughts

Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**Chapter Four: Escape**

"I'm sorry, you've done WHAT?"

Her father looked at her somewhat nervously, whilst her mother just tutted.

"Don't shout like that Ginevra," she reprimanded, swirling her tea in its cup, "and don't act so surprised – you were told a year ago that this would happen if you didn't settle down properly."

The red headed princess just gaped at her mother. "But I didn't think you'd actually _do_ it!"

Queen Molly simply raised her eyebrow at her daughter before sipping her tea. Her husband, King Arthur, carried on. "Now, Ginny – it's your duty as a Princess to the crown," he began, before Ginny cut him off again.

"Duty? _Duty?_ What a load of rubbish!" she scorned, brown eyes flashing in anger. "You have seven children – _seven_ – yet Ron and I are the only ones that are being married off against our will! If it's our _duty_ then why haven't you arranged marriages for everyone else?"

Sat beside her, Ron remained quiet, though his eyes were glinting angrily. Arthur sighed, rubbing his eyes. It was situations like this that made him feel extremely old. "None of your brothers were 'sold off', as you put it, because they settled down into their responsibilities as princes of the realm – something you and Ron have yet to do!"

"Wait, you think _we're_ irresponsible? What the hell about Fred and George?!"

"Enough, Ginny!" Molly snapped, putting her tea cup on the table. "We are the King and Queen and you will _both_ do what we say."

"But – "

"No. No buts," Arthur said, firmly. "And if you're going to be argumentative about it, then I suggest you take some time to cool off."

If that wasn't a dismissal, she didn't know what was. "Fine!" she snapped and flounced off, hearing the angry footsteps behind her that told her Ron was following suit.

"Can you believe this?" she yelled as soon as they were out of sight.

Ron scowled and kicked at a wall. "I know! Like I _want_ to marry some Princess from France."

"And you think I want to marry an Earl?" Ginny asked in exasperation.

"Well, at least the Earl is English," Ron said gloomily. "My, ugh, 'wife' is going to speak French. FRENCH, Ginny – I can't speak a single word except 'merde' and I doubt she'd appreciate that!"

"Languages aside, Ron, she's probably at least our age," Ginny pointed out, face now going red in anger. As it so often did when she got angry, her hair began to spark slightly with uncontrolled magic. "Good Merlin, mine's probably about fifty with a moustache and a waist the size of a dragon!"

"They have _no right_ to do this, none at all!" Ron agreed, quietly, eyes burning holes into a chest of armour.

"So what shall we do about it?" Ginny asked him, hands on hips.

Ron looked at her. "I don't think there's anything we can do," he said, admitting defeat. "You know what Mum's like when she's made up her mind – and Dad won't manage to do anything to change her mind..."

"We can always run away."

Ron groaned. "Bloody hell, Gin, not _this_ again," he said, exasperated.

"It's not like they're lacking for heirs around here," Ginny persisted, as her brother began to walk away from her. "If they're going to imprison us by marriage we should at least _see_ the world first!"

"It'll never work."

"Well, of course it's not going to bloody work if you never try!" Ginny exclaimed, annoyed. "I'm talking about mountains, Ron – deserts, forests, jungles, seas, rivers... all our life the only places we've been are our schools and out into the town! Don't you want to see more?"

"YES, Ginny, yes, I do!" Ron snapped, whirling around to glare at his sister. "But it's not. Going. To. Happen. So stop daydreaming and wake up to reality."

And he turned on his heel and walked away.

'_Well, I'll show you,_' Ginny thought mutinously before turning around and heading towards her chambers. '_I'll show you all._'

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

'_And Ron thought it would never work – ha!_' Ginny thought victoriously to herself as she inched her way down the tower wall. '_Shows you what _he_ knows._'

King Arthur and Queen Molly were not totally oblivious to the various escape attempts by their numerous children over the years. Usually – in the case of Fred and George in particular – it was just a quick tour of the local city in disguise, something which they both secretly encouraged. Both King and Queen felt it did their children – as prospective rulers – some good to understand the common man. Old King Ignatius hadn't really cared at all and there had been quite a bit of unrest before Molly inherited the throne.

However, when it came to their youngest child and only daughter, both monarchs felt something more substantial than the odd guard here and there would suffice. Consequently, over the past three years various wards had been set up by the palace magicians that covered all forms of magical transportation, even broom travel (although they took the added precaution of confiscating Ginevra's broomsticks when she was 10 under the pretence of unladylike behaviour).

What they had failed to consider, however, was the rather more classic escape method of using knotted up bed sheets to climb out the window.

'_Perfect!_' Ginny thought to herself, satisfied, as she dropped down to the ground outside her tower. '_Now to get out of the castle..._'

She did consider getting one of the horses, but realised that would be too big – too obvious.

'_Well, looks like it'll have to be on foot until I reach the outskirts,_' she decided, creeping along the ornamental gardens. '_I can always borrow a horse from there – or a broom if I'm lucky..._'

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Three hours later the sun was beginning to peer over the horizon and Princess Ginevra Weasley was tired, cold, thirsty and suffering from about a million and one scratches.

'_Not to mention one big fat blister,_' she thought with a sigh. She could easily heal herself with magic, but she wouldn't put it past her parents to have put a tracking spell on her wand. Looked like she would have to just put up with them.

The first hour or so of her journey had been wonderful. Ginny, despite her great need for secrecy, found herself spontaneously bursting into happy laughs and twirling around as she made her way through the moonlit undergrowth of the Royal Forest. She felt like she was seeing the world for the first time all over again.

'_No more etiquette lessons,_' she had thought, beaming triumphantly. '_No more long, boring meeting with court officials; no more idiotic noble men; and, best of all, no stupid Earl to marry!_' And she had laughed gleefully, terrifying a nearby owl that then promptly fell out of his tree.

The second hour had been less cheery. Ginny's euphoria at her escape was beginning to wear off and weariness was starting to set in. She _had_ been up all night, after all, and she hadn't walked so much in years. Going through the main town had also been more than a little nerve wracking. Ginny didn't think that the guards would be on the lookout for her yet, but she was not a fool. The streets were not safe for anyone in the wee hours of the morning and Ginny kept a tight grip on her wand the whole journey.

She had tried to conceal herself best as possible and had rather happily forgone the heavy, awkward dresses of her wardrobe, managing to sneak an old pair of Ron's breeches and a simple shirt to wear instead. But boys' clothes or no, there was no disguising her distinctive, long, Weasley red hair and she had found a simple black cloak with a hood to cover it. It also added an air of mystery, which Ginny was thankful for. She had seen a few men eye her warily, but none had approached, not wanting to risk whoever – or, indeed, whatever – could be concealed under the dark folds.

Her crown she had left on in a spur of the moment decision. Whilst she wanted to get away from the ties of 'Princess', there was no denying the benefits it would bring in her escape from the capital. A simple inn keeper or stable master would hardly say no if the Royal Princess Ginevra ordered him to give her one of his horses. She did have some money on her, but she wasn't too sure how far it would go and she may need it for food. So, for now, the crown was to be her ticket out of there.

And, later on, she could easily melt it down for money.

'_Bother_,' Ginny thought as she tripped over a particularly gnarled root. She had exited the town about half an hour ago and was currently skirting round the edge of the main road leading south towards the coast. She had contemplated just walking along the road itself, but had decided against it. It was getting later now and she knew her disappearance couldn't go unnoticed for much longer. Her long head start wouldn't do her much good if the Royal Guard simply came up behind her as she was trotting happily in the open for all to see.

'_Aha! What's that – looks like a manor..._' Ginny thought, spying something through the trees in the rapidly lightening skies. She squinted through the trees, trying to see more. '_And it looks like they have stables... excellent!_'

Stealing through the gardens was ridiculously easy – it didn't look like anyone was up yet. Ginny frowned at this. In her experience servants were always up and bustling around at this time of day – just seemed to be what they did. But this garden was abandoned.

'_It would be just my luck to pick a house that's currently unoccupied,_' she thought with a grimace, half a mind to turn back, but she steeled herself to carry on. '_After all, there's no harm in just looking._'

To her delight, Ginny's initial assumption about the house had been right – there _were_ horses there. And, even better, there were _broomsticks._

Alright, so they weren't particularly _good_ ones, but there they were. '_How lucky to find a house of wizards,_' she thought, gleefully, picking up what looked like the best broom. It was quite an old model, but obviously well cared for – the handle was polished beautifully and the tail neatly trimmed. She felt some guilt at taking what was obviously a treasured possession, but she shook it off. A broomstick was replaceable – her freedom wasn't!

"Hey! What do you think you're doing? Put that down!"

'_Bugger. Perhaps not as abandoned as I thought._'

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

When Hermione woke up that morning she didn't have the peaceful cushion of forgetting what had happened to her best friend, for it was a thought that had kept her sleep light and restless. As a result her head was pounding and her eyes were red and sore from crying, but at least she felt less helpless.

After they had revived Sirius (but left him tied up so he couldn't rush off and do bloody murder) they had managed to flesh out a plan of some kind. They were going to stay on with the Dursleys until Tonks came back. They would have gotten in touch with her first, but they had no way to contact her – floo was completely forbidden at the manor and none of them had any money to send a message.

Once all together again, they would leave for the Castle and petition the King until he listened to them. Sirius, Remus and Tonks were all members of aristocratic families (if disinherited and disgraced) and they hoped that might be enough to get an audience.

Failing that...

'_Hermione Granger, jail breaker,_' she thought to herself, shuddering. She didn't know what the punishment was for assisting in the escape of a felon, but she was pretty sure it wasn't going to be pretty. '_But if we do manage to break him out then that should prove our story, shouldn't it?_'

Hermione sighed. There was no point wondering and pondering 'what if's. Tonks wasn't due back for at least another two days and she still had to get through all her normal chores in addition to Harry's and Tonks'.

She glanced out her attic window at the early sun and rubbed at her burning eyes. It looked, she thought rather bitterly, as though it was going to be a lovely day. Before the events of two days ago Harry and Sirius would probably try and wrestle some free time to have an improvised game of Quidditch. She smiled sadly at the memory of Harry flying – he always seemed so much happier when in the air – almost free.

The smile dropped from her face.

Harry wasn't free at all anymore.

Caught in her melancholy, Hermione almost missed the small figure creeping across the gardens. Almost, but not quite. She stared as the cloaked figure slipped through the stable doors, feeling anger stirring with her.

'_Great, what _more_ do we need to go wrong?_' she thought, leaping out of bed and shrugging on a dress as quickly as she could. If someone stole a horse then the Dursleys would no doubt take it out of their wages and, right now, they needed all the money they could get.

Rushing through the manor, bare flag stones icy on her unshod feet, she reached the door in record time, breath hitching slightly. Ignoring the pain on her feet as the small stones cut them she skidded into the stables, horrified to see that, far from stealing a horse, the cloaked stranger was stealing one of their few broomsticks.

Harry's broom.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" she yelled angrily to their back, watching as they jumped in surprise. '_Oh, no you don't, not Harry's broom, you bastard!'_ "Put that down!"

When the stranger hesitated, back still turned, Hermione whipped out her wand. "I'm warning you! _Expelliarmus!_"

The spell shot towards the stranger as a jet of silvery light but, to Hermione's horror, the stranger whipped around and yelled, "Protego!" causing the spell to dissipate on their pearly shield.

But what caused Hermione's horror was not the fact that her would-be-thief was a magic-user: no, it was the fact that, as the stranger turned around, the hood on their cloak had fallen and she could see exactly who she was attacking.

'_Bloody Merlin – bright red hair and a crown – it's the bloody Princess!'_

With a squeak, Hermione threw herself to the ground, face burning. '_Oh sweet Merlin I've attacked _Royalty!_'_ she panicked to herself. '_I could go to jail for this – nay, I could be _executed_ for this!_'

"I'm so sorry, your Highness," she babbled, eyes tearing and staring firmly at the hay strewn floor. "I- I did not see you."

"Your aim would suggest otherwise." The Princess' voice was wry and friendly, but Hermione did not dare look up.

"And for that I know I must be punished, Your Highness," Hermione said, feeling her voice tremble. She was suddenly thankful that she was on the floor because she thought her legs would have collapsed otherwise.

There was an uncomfortable pause before the Princess – '_Ginevra_,' Hermione remembered suddenly – said, somewhat awkwardly, "Er, well, say nothing of this and all will be well."

Relief instantly flooded through Hermione, making her feel even weaker than before. But... she was still going to take Harry's broom... "We have other brooms, your Highness, if you want."

Later Hermione would wonder what had possessed her to ask such a stupid thing.

"All I _want,_" the Princess said icily, "is to be left _alone_." The soft thuds grew louder and Hermione half cringed as the Princess walked towards her. She was a witch – that much Hermione had already seen – and as Princess she was well within her rights to obliviate Hermione... especially if she was serious about being left alone.

The clatter of metal on the stone floor made Hermione jump. "For your silence, maid," the Princess said and then she was gone.

For a few moments, Hermione stayed there, frozen in her bow on the floor. But eventually, when she realised that the Princess wasn't coming back, she groaned and stretched out. She looked over to where the Princess had dropped something for her and felt her eyes bulge.

"Thirty galleons!" she cried in amazement. She had never seen so much money in her life! She reached out and grabbed one, as if to make sure it was real. The metal was cold in her grasp but quickly warmed up and Hermione smiled, before a sudden thought struck her.

'_If they can sell Harry to pay for taxes... then surely I can buy him back!_'

Two minutes later Sirius and Remus were both jolted from their fitful dozing as Hermione crashed into the kitchen, eyes bright and cheeks flushed.

"Remus! Sirius! I've got a way to get Harry back!"

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

It had been a long time since Ginny had been on a broom. When she was younger she was as good a flier as any of her brothers – flying was something that seemed to run in her family (with the exception of Percy, but then he did nothing that didn't involve a book) – but at 10 she had found her broom confiscated by her mother.

"Flying is not something Princesses do, Ginny, I'm afraid," Molly said firmly, when Ginny protested that all her brothers were allowed to go flying.

Not that Ginny had let it go at that. At Beauxbatons it was impossible – the school was full of very _proper_ noble ladies who wouldn't know a magic broom if it whacked them in the face. Even the ones that were magical looked scandalised when she suggested it. When in the palace, though, she was constantly wheedling her brothers to let her have a go on their brooms, stealing a few exciting minutes in the air. Lately, however, that had gotten even more difficult. At every turn in the castle she now seemed to encounter one of her mother's advisors, trying to steer her towards all sorts of meetings, receptions and even more lessons!

All in all, then, Ginny was very happy when the broomstick only gave a very slight wobble as she set off.

'_Now, this is all good,_' she thought to herself, gripping the handle a bit tighter than she used to. '_Nice and steady to begin with... just a straight line... and not too high,_' she added, shuddering. '_Don't want to fall off and break my neck... mother would chain me to my tower if that happened!_'

But despite the grim thought, Ginny found she was very pleased. She had successfully escaped her tower – and, more importantly, her arranged marriage – broken out of the castle, found a broomstick and was now heading quite nicely towards freedom. Once she'd gotten used to being back in the air she would be able to fly much faster and higher and the aurors – the Royal Guard – would never be able to catch her.

She felt a bit bad about scaring that servant girl, but she could probably buy about ten brooms with the money she had dropped at her feet, so she hoped that would be alright. Besides, she was quite impressed with the little broom. Most of the older models tended to have a few funny quirks in the system, but this one was heading forward quite steadily.

"To freedom!" she cheered impulsively. Nothing was going to stop her now!

Except...

"Help! Oh no, don't! Help!"

Ginny brought her broom to a stop and peered up ahead her, gasping. Lost in triumphant daydreams she hadn't been paying attention to the road ahead so had completely missed the train of caravans and coaches ahead.

Caravans that were now being attacked by bandits.

'_Oh, just great,_' Ginny thought annoyed, completely torn. She shifted on the broom as the voice rang out again, more panicked than before. If she stayed and helped then not only would it cut down on the head start she currently had on the aurors, but they would also be able to tell them exactly where she had gone.

Of course, if she _didn't_ help them then she would never be able to live with herself.

'_Bugger,_' she swore. '_Well, into battle I go..._'

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

**Authors Note:**

Finally the appearance of Ginny and Ron! Yay! Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it; it's my favourite chapter to date.

Thanks for reading,

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	6. Chapter 5: Fighting

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** '_blah_' = thoughts

Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**Chapter Five: Fighting**

'_Well, Ginevra Weasley, you wanted adventure and excitement. Congratulations: you got it!_'

The little voice in Ginny's head sounded suspiciously like her mother and made her falter for a second. What was she doing? She was a Princess, for Merlin's sake, meant for looking pretty and – her lip curled in disdain – marrying Earls for the good of the Kingdom. She wasn't supposed to go rescuing damsels in distress or fighting bandits. It was simply Not Done.

Well, Ginny told that little voice defiantly, Princesses weren't supposed to run away, either, and she had done that. They weren't supposed to be able to best most of her younger brothers in a wand fight or to fly a broomstick. And she had done all that. So what was one more indiscretion?

Pulling on the broom handle she flew up above the tree line. None of the bandits had seen her yet but it was only a matter of time. Ginny took a deep breath to try and calm her racing heart, something made harder by the cries and screaming beneath her.

That little voice kept trying to persuade her that this was insane – she could barely ride the broomstick and most of the offensive spells she knew involved turning hair pink – but something inside Ginny was stirring. It could be adrenaline, but she rather thought it was excitement. She knew it was probably wrong to feel it, especially when all the people below were suffering, but she couldn't help it. This was her _doing_ something, not just sitting around doing no one any good.

'_There_ is_ a point to Ginny Weasley,_' she thought, '_and I'm going to prove it._'

Taking a deep breath, Ginny swooped down from the trees. It took a second to orientate herself, but her wand quickly shot out curses. "Expelliarmus! Stupefy! Petrificus Totallus!" She barrel rolled to one side and her wand lashed out a few more spells as she shot back into the tree cover.

Her breathing was hard and her heart seemed to be trying to thump its way out of her chest but Ginny grinned. The angry yells from below were no longer coming from the poor merchants in the caravans but the bandits that had been hit. She hadn't paused to watch her handiwork – at least some of them probably had bows and arrows – but she had heard several very satisfying thumps as the men she hit were stunned or cursed.

Ginny began to move slowly and carefully over the tree tops to a new position. The element of surprise was gone now and if she attacked from where she had disappeared she'd have been shot with an arrow faster than she could say 'protego'. Indeed, she could hear one of the men below yelling at the others to rally.

Before they had time to comply Ginny shot back down under the trees, wand already sending out a stunner. The man hardly had time to even look surprised before he was out cold on the floor. The man next to him, however, was more prepared and shot a spell right at her head.

Ginny yelled and rolled away, feeling the rush of the purple spell over her shoulder. Suddenly she was sweating. '_They're wizards?!_' she thought, alarmed, even as she managed to send a tarantallegra at the man. It wasn't the best jinx to use as he still held his wand, but his legs were jerking and leaping about all over the place so he was too distracted to use it on her. '_I don't think I can hold off this many wizards!_'

The others had all zeroed in on her position by now and suddenly Ginny was no longer the attacker but the defender. "Protego!" she yelled, as spell after spell came her way. They were not particularly strong spells and dissipated almost effortlessly, but there were a lot of them and Ginny didn't dare lower the shield to curse them back. Instead she ducked and rolled and dove through the lights, trying to get back to the safety of the tree tops.

As she was avoiding their spells they seemed to realise she wanted to retreat and concentrated their fire just above her head, trapping her. Beginning to feel panicked, Ginny turned around to face her attackers and now tried in earnest to knock a few of them out. Most of them were still firing at her, but some were frantically still searching through the overturned caravans, flinging aside terrified commoners. Interested, Ginny realised that none of these had wands. Were they that confident or were they just muggles?

Unfortunately, Ginny's distracted interest served to be her downfall.

"REDUCTO!"

The spell caught her unawares as it was not aimed at herself, but at her broom. Ginny only had a split second to realise her mistake before the little brown shattered beneath her and she was falling, falling...

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

And she had stopped.

Hovering above the ground Ginny looked over at her saviour, confused. It was the same voice that had severed the broom in the first place. So why go to all the trouble of making her fall if they didn't want to hurt her?

The bandit in questioned smirked at her quizzical expression before letting his wand drop. Ginny managed to not fall to her knees as she suddenly dropped the last foot or so to the ground – which she considered all the more incredible as the disintegrating broomstick had given her several nasty splinters in her legs (and other somewhat more unmentionable places) – and glared at the bandit.

He was quite young, possibly only a couple of years older than Ginny herself, but his eyes were cold and hard. He was dark skinned, with short black hair that looked like someone had hacked at it with a blunt knife as it was in strange little clumps all over his head. His clothes were ragged and worn, covered in mud and leaves, and the wand he was now pointing at her again looked old and battered.

He was obviously the leader, which surprised Ginny as most of the others looked quite a bit older than him. They all sneered at her angrily, but their eyes kept flickering up to her forehead uncertainly. Ginny wondered what on earth they were looking at before she realised: her hood had come off and her stupid royal crown was on full display to everyone.

Once again that unfamiliar fear swept over her. Fear was not something that Ginny was accustomed to, living in the luxurious palace, where an auror was never far away. She clenched her fists and raised her own wand arm. If they wanted to take her for a captive then fine: but she would not go willingly.

The men all burst into laughter at that. Ginny knew it must look ridiculous: one little witch against a whole group of older wizards. '_Let them laugh_' she told herself grimly, ignoring the fluttering of panic. Hadn't she just proved to them she was a force to be reckoned with?

"Little witchy come out to play?" one of the men taunted, followed by more laughter.

Ginny felt herself going red, but this time it was not in embarrassment. That was the kind of stupid thing her brothers always said to her whenever she sneaked out of an elocution lesson to play-duel with them. It had pissed her off then and it still pissed her off now.

Smiling sweetly at him, Ginny flicked her wand, said her favourite spell and watched as the bat-bogey curse hit him full on in the head. Now it was her turn to laugh as he screamed and ran away, batting at the gelatinous blobs chasing him. She looked back at the other men, still smiling sweetly. "Anyone else want a go?"

They still looked scornful, but were a bit more wary now. Ginny looked at the dark skinned leader, who seemed to be trying not to laugh. "Not exactly a spell I would expect your Highness to know," he said, wryly.

"Well, I'm not exactly your usual type of Princess," Ginny retorted hotly.

Again that small quirk, as if he was trying not to smile. "That seems quite obvious, Your Highness."

There was a small pause where the two of them eyed each other warily. Ginny hoped he couldn't see the small tremors in her hand or how much she was sweating. He looked cool as a cucumber and that annoyed her almost as much as the jeering comment from earlier. He obviously didn't think she was a threat at all.

"Well, come on then!" Ginny snapped, anger making her rash. "Which one of you is next?"

She didn't really expect any of them to respond: she was just trying to rile up the leader into some sort of reaction. So when they all yelled and ran away, she was somewhat shocked. Well, at least until she turned around...

"Great. Just great. I decide to be heroic and save innocent people and this is my reward?!" Ginny scowled up at the heavens. "Thanks a lot."

She glanced back at the approaching riders anxiously. They were quite far off still, but you would have to be an idiot to not realise what all the flashing purple and gold meant. It was the official colours of the Royal Guard, the aurors, and they were out to bring her back.

She glanced back at the fleeing bandits uncertainly. They were nearly all gone now and, somewhat surprisingly, had picked up their unconscious comrades and were dragging them away. She'd have thought that they would just leave them behind and save their own skins.

But then how much did she really know about bandits and their criminal ways? She'd spent most of her life stuck behind the palatial walls.

And speaking of which...

'_Come on, Ginny, move!_'

Ginny began to hurriedly move away from the rapidly approaching aurors. She looked mournfully at the little broom. She may have only had it less than an hour, but she had built up quite a bit of affection for it and now it was in splintered pieces on the floor. It didn't seem quite a fair ending for the poor chap.

And, of course, there was no way she could out run the aurors without it.

'_Well, maybe luck _is_ on my side,_' Ginny thought, as she began to dart her way through the overturned carriages and trees (and keep an eye out for the lingering bandits that may decide they wanted a royal hostage after all). '_I mean, they're not exactly going to be able to just leave these people here. They'll have to help them and maybe I can lose them in the trees..._'

Ginny's suddenly gleeful mood, however, did not last very long.

"Oh, wait!"

Ginny yelped as something yellow shot out in front of her. She tried to stop, but tripped over a stone and ended up crashing into the yellow entity, causing them both to tumble to the ground.

"Ow!" Ginny snapped, annoyed, rubbing her sore ribs. "What are you _doing_?"

The yellow thing moved and its features resolved into that of a young girl. Ginny stared at her, somewhat bemused. The girl was unlike anyone else she had ever seen before. True, her straw-like blond hair was nothing out of the ordinary and her eyes, whilst very wide and unblinking, were a normal shade of grey.

But what got Ginny was what the girl was _wearing_. The overwhelming sense of yellow seemed to be the colour of her weird, shapeless dress which was decorated in odd collections of runes and hieroglyphs. Her earrings seemed to be some sort of purple vegetable, whilst her necklace seemed to be corks from beer barrels and there appeared to be an extremely wilted looking daisy stuck in her hair.

"Hello, Ginevra," the girl said, in an odd, dreamy sort of way, and Ginny immediately found herself bristling with indignation. Not only did this bizarre girl know exactly who she was, but she had the audacity to call herself by her first name.

You just _don't _go round calling Princesses by their first name.

"How _dare_ – " Ginny started, hotly, before the strange girl interrupted her.

"They've stolen my Uncle," she said, still in that odd detached manner.

Now Ginny was completely thrown. "Your _Uncle_?" she started, "but – "

"They're getting quite far away now," she continued, "I was wondering if you could bring him back. I would, but I'm afraid I may have twisted my ankle."

Ginny looked to where the girl pointed and saw two of the bandits dragging a third man between them through the woods. Ginny felt her heart clench. She had assumed that the people being dragged away were just the ones she had magically knocked out. She didn't consider that they might actually be the people she was trying to protect. And she had just watched them being kidnapped!

She supposed she could catch up to them quite quickly, unburdened with an unconscious body, but then what? The bandits could well find themselves with two hostages instead of one! And all the time the Royal Guard were getting closer...

"I can't help him," she said, turning to the girl and scrambling to her feet. "I don't know how... the aurors can help you. I cannot!"

Then the girl, for the first time, looked straight at her and Ginny cursed. Odd the girl may be, but that didn't mean she didn't love her uncle any less than anyone else. And when she looked Ginny right in the eye, those eyes were sad and tearing.

"Oh, bloody Merlin!"

It really wasn't her day.

Resigned, Ginny set off running. It was a lot more complicated than it sounded, at least for Ginny. The bandits had turned off the main road and were now weaving in and around the trees. This meant that Ginny was in constant danger of tripping over tree roots, stumbling over pebbles, whacking into low-lying branches and slipping over the general detritus of the forest floor. Add to that the fact that she had never run for anything in her life ("Princesses don't _run_, Ginevra. They _glide_.") she found she wasn't catching up to the bandits anywhere near as fast as she wanted.

But she _was _catching up to them. As they got closer, Ginny could see the frail old man they were dragging – the girl's uncle – between them and immediately felt sorry for him. He was certainly very old, but he had one of those faces that looked as though they could be any age from 50 to 150. His silvery eyes were partly open and she realised he was not unconscious at all, but simply too terrified to move. He caught her eye as she caught up, huffing, puffing and rather red in the face, and his expression seemed to say "Save me."

That did it for Ginny. He looked _petrified_. Her anger took over and, quite forgetting she was a witch, she simply launched herself at the bandits. "Aaargh!"

As she tumbled into the nearest one she caught a half glimpse of his face and realised, with dismay, that it was the dark skinned leader. He shot her a shocked look but that was all she could see before they were, all three of them tumbling, tumbling, tumbling, with the frantic yells of the other bandit behind them.

And as they tumbled, Ginny swore out loud, in a manner that would most definitely have thrown her mother into a coma. Because, between views of the sky, ground and her own flailing legs, she caught glimpses of where they were headed and it did not look good.

They were heading to a cliff edge.

'_I HATE this bloody day!'_ was Ginny's last thought as, screaming for all her worth, she was flying with no broom yet again, the dull blue of the river below rushing towards her...

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

"Do you think it will work?"

Sirius and Remus looked at each other and only a blind man would miss the desperate hope in their eyes. Hermione watched them with bated breath. This was only a little less dangerous than breaking into the jail and could see Hermione thrown in right alongside with Harry if she failed.

"I don't know, Hermione," Sirius said slowly, as though it pained him to say it. "It's dangerous – you'd be risking a hell of a lot."

"I know, Sirius," Hermione said quietly. "But if it gets Harry back, it's worth it."

Sirius still winced whenever he heard Harry's name, but the expression of longing on his face was almost painful in its intensity. Remus said nothing, watching her silently from the bed.

"I've thought about it," Hermione went on, trying to fill the uneasy silence. "I know the risks, I really do, and I don't suggest this lightly, but I don't think there's any other way we can get Harry out."

"We can try the King," Sirius said, but he sounded a little unsure. "This is King Arthur, here – not Ignatius. Ignatius really couldn't give a hoot about anyone but Arthur... he might understand. He might listen."

"_Might_ is still not _will_, Sirius," Hermione pointed out. "And even if he does listen to us how long will it take us to work through all the underlings first? By the time we get an audience, Harry could already have been shipped off and we'd never get him back!"

"Then we – Remus and I – will break him out ourselves," Sirius said. "There's no reason why this all has to hang on you. If they suspect anything..."

"All I need to do is hold my nerve."

Sirius gave a funny little laugh. "What if the same guards are there?" he pointed out. "If they recognise you..."

"I promise if any of them are there I won't do it. But it's our only _realistic_ chance, Sirius."

The dog animagus just snorted again and leapt to his feet, nervous energy making him pace. Hermione watched him, determined. This plan would work – is _going_ to work, she told herself. And if Sirius and Remus said no?

She'd bloody well do it anyway.

"Do you think you can do it?"

The quiet question came from Remus. She looked over at him, finding his blue eyes staring intently back at her. She stuck out her chin obstinately. "Yes," she affirmed. "For Harry I can."

Sirius looked at him. "Remus, you can't seriously be suggesting we send Hermione off on her own," he protested. "It's too dangerous."

"No," Remus said with finality. "It's dangerous, but Hermione can do this. She's the only one who can and she can save our family. I believe in you, Hermione."

Hermione found her eyes watering. "Thank you, Remus," she said quietly, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat. She almost couldn't look at Sirius, just in case he didn't feel the same way, but Sirius pulled her into a one armed hug.

"Now, Hermione, this doesn't look much like holding your nerve," he teased, giving her a gentle shake. "Just cause Moony here decided to get all sentimental doesn't mean you have to blubber all over him. Strokes his ego," he said in a stage whisper. Hermione gave a wet giggle and Remus hit him around the head.

"Idiot."

"Seriously, though, Hermione," Sirius added, looking serious now (no pun intended), "I believe in you, too."

They sat there in silence for a while. Hermione mused on her odd little family. When she was younger – before she had magic – she always thought that family was something given to you and you had to make do with what you had. When her parents had sent her away she thought she'd never have a proper family again, but now she had come to realise that a family – a true family – was something you made for yourself.

And she be damned if she let the Dursleys rip this one apart.

"Let's do this."

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Ronald Weasley, Prince of England, was annoyed.

No, make that extremely pissed off.

"Ginny, when we find you I am going to bloody _kill_ you," he swore, glowering, as he walked his horse carefully through the debris and discarded possessions that littered the ground. The commoners were milled all about, trying to find lost valuables and comforting crying children and wives. The aurors were spread out just as far, helping the men right the toppled caravans, talking to witnesses and helping treat the injured. More still were branching out into the woods, trying to find the perpetrators.

Ron scowled at them, not noticing how some of the commoners eyed him a little uncertainly. Life, he had decided, was simply Not Fair. Not only had he received the news yesterday that he was to marry a French Princess against his will, but his younger sister had promptly run away causing his parents to wake him up at a totally unreasonably hour and send him out to fetch her back.

This was even the more unfair because, rather than fetch her back, what he actually wanted to do was go with her and he was inwardly cursing himself for not agreeing when she had suggested it yesterday. But he hadn't thought she was actually serious this time...

Being a Prince was nice, Ron acknowledged. He didn't have to worry about little things like clothes or money and there was always plenty of food. But there were the little things, like always being continually watched, never being allowed to say what he _really_ thought about some people and, let's not forget, the whole arranged marriage debacle.

So, not only had Ginny managed to do what _he_ wanted to do and escape, but she had managed to take on and fight several criminals all at once whilst _he_, being older than her by an entire year, had to content himself with sitting on his stupid horse and being told to 'stay out of the way'.

Laughter brought him out of his gloomy thoughts and he swivelled to turn his glare at his supposed best friend, Neville Longbottom. "What are you laughing at?" he snapped, feeling even grumpier.

Anyone but Neville would probably have immediately simpered after him at that, but not Neville. Neville had been one of Ron's best friends for nearly 6 years now, ever since they started Durmstrang together. He was the heir to a ducal estate up near Scotland, which was currently being tended to by servants whilst Neville's parents were serving as Ambassadors to Florence. Ron had met the iron-haired Dowager Duchess Augusta Longbottom who was Neville's only remaining relative in the country and immediately felt sorry for Neville. Not that she wasn't caring and loved him very much, but she had a will of steel to rival even the Queen's and that was saying something.

Neville had changed a lot since Ron had first met him. Back in the first year he had been quite shy, moving down to London from Scotland being a big shock. Now, however, he was a happy, confident young noble man who was one of the few people that Ron allowed to call him by his first name. He even got on well with Ginny and she was such a hot tempered firecracker that that was quite an achievement. Ron had hoped, for a little while, that Neville would end up courting Ginny but alas it was not to be. There had been something, right at the beginning, but that had faded all too quickly and now they were just friends.

"Just your face, mate," Neville said, slipping off his own horse, still grinning. "Anyone would think that Ginny had done all this on purpose, just to annoy you."

Well, Ron certainly didn't discount that.

"I'm just sick of being told to 'sit there' and watch," Ron said, not altogether untruthfully. "I'm seventeen now, legally an adult, and I _still_ can't seem to go anywhere without being babysat by aurors."

One of the aurors nearby seemed to hear that comment and glared at him, but Ron ignored him. Dawlish was a bit of an idiot, anyway.

"Well, you are an heir to the throne," Neville pointed out, fairly.

"Yeah, _fifth _in line, and that's just if you count Fred and George as one person," Ron muttered, darkly.

"And they probably don't want you to get yourself hurt or killed in some stupid duel," Neville continued, as if he hadn't heard Ron's mutter.

"But I'm not stupid," Ron said. "We've done duelling at Durmstrangs before and I was good at that. Only that stupid Malfoy git bested me there – and you of course," he added, grinning slightly before his face fell again. "I don't see why I shouldn't be able to _help_ at least. And Ginny's a year younger than me and a _girl_ and she got to fight a whole horde of bandits on her own." He kicked a broken bit of broomstick in annoyance. "I don't see why I don't get to fight just _one_."

Neville watched him. "Well, Ron, they didn't exactly _let_ her fight anyone," he said, frowning slightly. "She ran away and their Majesties have dispatched nearly the entire Royal Guard to bring her back. She'll probably be lucky if she sees sunlight in the next 10 years."

Ron knew that was true, but it still didn't mean that it didn't hurt. "Yeah, well, like I said. Life just isn't fair."

"You look as though you're suffering from an infestation of wrackspurts."

The dreamy voice cut across Ron's brooding and made him jump. He whirled around to see who had spoken and came across the strangest and scariest looking girl he had ever seen.

And Ron lived at Court. He had seen more than his fair share of scary females.

She wasn't one of the determined-to-marry-a-member-of-royalty-and-would-do-whatever-it-took-to-get-it sort of girl. She was worse: the I-am-absolutely-crazy-and-live-in-my-own-little-world kind of girl. Ron could feel himself beginning to panic. He sort of knew how to deal with the first kind of girl. Sadly, they were all too common amongst the nobility. You just remained completely cold and unresponsive until they got the hint and went away.

The other kind... this kind... he had absolutely no idea what to do with them. He looked at the girl, feeling his heart fall even further. She had grey, spaced out eyes, that both seemed to be staring right into his soul and not looking at him at all. Her expression was one of vague interest and a wilted daisy seemed to be stuck in her straggly blond hair. She also seemed to be glowing faintly yellow which was due to her extremely bright, all over yellow robes dotted with mad, undecipherable runes, accentuated by her cork necklace and radish earrings.

She was, in two words, completely barmy.

Ron suddenly realised that she had spoken. "I beg your pardon," he said, as politely as he could, "er, what?" Neville was also looking completely bemused.

"It's an invisible being that floats through your ears and makes your brain go all fuzzy," the girl said, still in that light, dreamy voice. She turned her half gaze over to Neville who went pink. "They're very hard to fend off."

"Er... right," Neville said, looking extremely awkward.

"I don't suffer with them much myself," she continued, swinging that penetrating gaze back to Ron.

Ron shot a helpless look at Neville who looked helplessly back at him. Neville was even worse at getting rid of girls than Ron was.

"Your Highness!"

Ron turned, relieved, to see Kingsley walking up towards them, purple robes swirling impressively around him. Kingsley was one of the few aurors that Ron really liked. He was the head of the Royal Guard so Ron didn't see him that often – he was more likely to be assigned to their Majesties – but when he did... well, Ron was in awe.

"Your Highness," Kingsley said, bald head glinting as he bowed to Ron. "Our teams in the wood have not managed to capture any of the bandits, although we have found several signs of conflict and the passage of some large heavy objects. I have dispatched a few of the aurors to follow them, but we can only spare a few until we have found her Highness."

"Oh, Princess Ginevra?" the girl said, still in that vague, drifting sort of way. "She's off rescuing my Uncle."

All three stared at her, shocked. "What?" Ron was the first to get words out. "What do you mean?"

"The bandits took him and she went to take him back," the girl repeated, staring at Kingsley now. "I think she suffers from wrackspurts, too. Maybe it runs in the family," she added, now staring back at Ron.

Kingsley swore, before apologising, but Ron waved him off. So now Ginny was chasing after kidnappers, was she? Ron groaned. '_Great,_' he thought. '_Now she's probably got herself captured and they'll hold her to ransom..._'

Kingsley seemed to be thinking the same thing because he immediately started yelling at the nearest aurors to join the others tracking down the fleeing bandits. Then he rounded on the girl, asking her quick questions. Unfortunately, the girl didn't seem to feel the need to respond in anything but her usual, drifting way.

"Miss, did you see which way that she went?" he asked.

She looked at him vaguely. "She went after my uncle," she repeated, tilting her head to one side. "She's alright, you know. Just a bit angry."

Ron stared at her in confusion. Was that 'she's alright' as in she wasn't dead, or that she was an ok sort of person? Kingsley, too, seemed quite perplexed, although he was better at hiding it than Ron.

"But which direction, Miss?"

Almost as if she didn't know she was doing it, the girl raised her arm to point somewhere north-east of them. "She went that way," she said, "but be careful of the mistletoe. It's probably full of nargles," she whispered conspiratorially to Neville, whose eyes went wide with panic.

"What are nargles?" he mouthed to Ron, as the girl turned her head away.

Ron shrugged, helpless, to say "No idea".

Kingsley, however, was not able to venture his opinion on nargles as he had shot off as soon as the girl pointed, calling to the nearest auror teams and pointing them in the right direction, shouting orders. But they had gone only a few paces when there was a cry from behind them and they all turned around.

"Oh... bloody Merlin!"

Ron cracked up with laughter, followed a bit more discretely by Neville, at the sight of a sopping wet Ginny before them. She glared at them, but the effect was somewhat ruined by her crown sliding off her sopping wet hair and crashing to the floor, causing a fresh shower of water to pour over her already soaking clothes.

"Shut up, Ronald!" Ginny snapped, hand clutching her wand fiercely.

"What – what happened to you?" he managed to choke out, feeling as though he would burst from trying not to laugh. But try he did – Merlin knew Ginny would already be furious enough without him rubbing his foot in it. But Ron had been having such an awful day that seeing Ginny soaking wet, furious and embarrassed helped alleviate the depression.

Just a little.

"Fell off a cliff," Ginny said shortly. Being wet did apparently not agree with her, although Ron thought it was probably something more to do with the fact that she had been caught. Again. "Here," she added, half pushing forwards an equally sopping elderly man who Ron had not immediately noticed, "there's your uncle, miss."

With a glad cry, the blonde girl hobbled forward and caught the soaking man just as he overbalanced and fell forward. She smiled in the most direct way Ron had seen yet and her uncle enveloped her in a big hug. She didn't seem to care that he was dripping all over her.

Kingsley had now jogged back to them, trying to look stern but failing somewhat because it was obvious he was trying not to laugh. Shame, really, because Ron knew he was one of the few people that could get away with laughing at the hot tempered Princess. Not only did she like him, but she was too much in awe of him to try and hex him in revenge. "Your Highness, you promised you wouldn't run away again," he said, frowning.

"I know," Ginny sighed, reaching for the saddle of the nearest horse and pulling herself up into it. Now she was caught she seemed fully resigned to heading back to the palace. Maybe she wanted to change her clothes. "I lied." Neville snorted at that. Ginny glared at him. "Besides," she added, turning back to Kingsley, "what was I supposed to do? Just leave him to die?"

Uncle then surprisingly spoke up. "I doubt they would have killed me, your Highness," he said, in an odd quivering sort of voice that sent shivers up Ron's spine. "I am Ollivander, the great wand maker. I believe it was for my skill they wanted me."

"Ollivander?" Ron's ears perked up at that. He didn't pay as much attention as he should to the names of important nobles and merchants but that was one name he _did_ recognise. "_The_ Ollivander? You made our wands!"

Ollivander just did a small, bobbing bow in response.

"What do bandits want with a wand maker?" Ginny asked, curious.

"They were Death Eaters, Princess," Ollivander said. "Wizards born to families who do not have the means nor the money to teach them magic. More often than not they are thrown out on to the streets. Most end up with the Death Eaters, where they scrape by a living in the forest."

Ron frowned. "Why are they called Death Eaters?" He would have thought that he would have heard of something important enough to have been given its own name but this was the first time. He glanced over at Ginny and Neville and saw they were equally as perplexed.

Ollivander didn't answer that one, but Kingsley did. "They prey on travellers, often killing the witches and wizards they find, and taking their wands for themselves. That is where their name came from and _that_ is why it is so important that you travel with the protection of the aurors, Your Highnessess," he finished, scowling at Ginny.

Trust Kingsley to turn information on social awareness into a lecture.

"What are you doing travelling, Sir Ollivander?" Neville asked, politely, to break the uncomfortable silence as Ginny glared at Kingsley.

"The King has asked me to become wand-maker-in-residence," Ollivander said humbly, giving short bobbing bows once more to Ron and Ginny. "I was travelling with my dear niece, whilst a friend has travelled on ahead."

"Oh," Ron said, suddenly feeling dismayed. That meant that he wasn't going to be rid of the strange girl any time soon. Drat. "And your name, lady?" he asked, politely, realising that he probably should have asked her that before. He hadn't exactly been treating her with the utmost courtesy. But, then again, he doubted she had noticed.

"Luna," was all she said, dreamily.

"Er, right, ok," said Neville, who was looking just as dismayed as Ron felt. It seemed that 'Luna' was all they were going to get out of her. What an odd family they made. "Er, may we accompany you both to the palace?"

Ron glared at him as they both accepted. Neville lifted his arms up at him as if to say "What? What else was I to do?"

Ron just pulled a face and clambered back onto his own horse, feeling resigned. He could already hear Luna begin to inform Ginny that she had a seriously bad wrackspurt infestation and Ginny's short, snappish response. Between an angry Ginny, bizarre Luna and his own bad temper, this was _not_ going to be a pleasant journey back to the palace.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

"I'm still not too sure about this."

Sirius stared out the window, feeling worry gnaw away at his insides. He could remember a time – when James was alive – when he was happy and carefree, but it all seemed so distant and hazy now. He was always worrying about one thing or another and now... well, he'd be lucky if he didn't have a stroke.

Hermione's exasperated voice came through the shutter. "For goodness sake, Sirius, we've been through this again and again."

"But what if something goes wrong?" he asked, not for the first time, turning towards the separator. Hermione's old rags had already been thrown to one side and he could hear the rustling and faint cursing of Arabella as she struggled with Hermione's new garb. "I should do it. You've never been to court before, after all – how will you know how to act?"

"If I've – oof – never been to court, then I shan't be recognised, will I?" Hermione's voice sounded a little thick, as though she were having something forced over her head. Sirius was suddenly heartily glad that Arabella was there to help Hermione change. Courtier's dresses were so complicated and layered he wasn't a hundred percent Hermione could manage on her own and he was sure he would pass out if anyone had handed _him_ a lacy undergarment.

"You're far too nice, Hermione. You'd stand out like a sore thumb just for that!"

"But they'll never let me – servant me - buy another servant, much less with just thirty galleons," she retorted. "It has to be this way – I'm Harry's only hope."

"There's always the prison break..." Sirius started, but was cut off by Hermione's exasperated cry.

"Sirius! You _agreed_ to this plan back at the manor! Nothing has changed since then: why are you asking all these questions?"

Sirius sighed. He wasn't sure why, really. Hermione was right: nothing _had_ changed, but now it was all too real. They were actually _doing_ it, not talking about it. Remus had accompanied the Dursleys down into town to go shopping – mainly because he could keep up a calm facade and there was still the danger of Sirius murdering all the Dursleys and causing a bit of a scene – and Sirius was watching them from the small room above Madam Malkins that Arabella rented.

Arabella had only been too ready to help them rescue Harry from being shipped to the Americas, much to their relief. She had apparently seen Harry being led away by the guards and had sought them out before they had found her, demanding to know what had happened to her favourite charge. She had sneaked away one of the fancier dresses from downstairs for their use which was a huge risk in itself. If Madam Malkin noticed it missing then Arabella could be arrested for theft.

"I just... worry, Hermione," Sirius said eventually, scowling as he watched the family converge on the best swordmakers in town. Well, no wonder they had no money if they continued to buy such stupid luxuries. Sirius snorted. He doubted Dudley, the fat lump, could even lift a sword, let alone use it.

Arabella snorted. "You _always_ worry, Sirius," she told him, voice croaking. "Even I know that."

"And you said you believed in me back at the manor," Hermione added. "Is that still true or not?"

Sirius swallowed. "It's still true."

"Well, then," Hermione said, voice sounding final. "You have nothing to fear then." There was a small pause then. "I'm coming out now," Hermione said, suddenly quiet. "Don't you dare laugh."

Sirius felt his breath catch. She looked wonderful, even if she went red at his gaze and looked down. The dress was a beautiful golden colour, bunching just under the breast line before tapering out and falling elegantly to her feet. There was no complicated embroidery that was so much the fashion, these days. Instead, the dress was plain, the simplicity making it stand out all the more. A silky white underdress went beautifully with the golden yellow of the main dress, small whorls covering the delicate material. The sleeves were a pale green colour and clung tightly to Hermione's arms, making even the well muscled arms of a servant girl look small and elegant. Arabella stood grinning proudly to one side.

Hermione grew uncomfortable under his gaze and shifted anxiously. "The shoes are too big," she said nervously, lifting up her voluminous skirts to show the dirty, common brown boots underneath.

Sirius laughed at that. "Trust me, Hermione, _no one_ will be looking at your feet."

Hermione smiled a little at that and let out a nervous laugh. "All this amazing material, this beautiful gown… I don't think I've ever felt more naked," she confessed, biting her lips.

"Come now, Hermione," Sirius said, walking up to her and holding her by her shoulders gently. "If you're truly going to be a noblewoman you have to play the part." He put a finger under her chin and pushed it upwards to see her nervous face staring at him. He pushed down another surge of anxiety. Hermione could do this, she was just nervous – if he showed he believed in her then hopefully she wouldn't doubt herself. "You look down to no one."

Hermione broke eye contact first, shaking her head and pulling away. "I'm not sure I can do this, Sirius," she confessed suddenly, a complete reversal of her earlier arguments. He knew what she was feeling. Hermione was way out of her comfort zone here, having to take command and act as though she expected everyone to do everything she said, no questions asked, when she was most comfortable with loosing herself in a book. It was something most servants dreamed about but to live it in reality... and there was so much at stake here...

"No, Hermione, you _can_ do this. And you will," he told her firmly. "You look the part wonderfully."

But Hermione shook her head again. "I am just a servant in a nice dress," she said miserably.

"That," said Arabella, coming up and taking Hermione's hand firmly and with a kind smile, "is because we have to do something with your hair." She flipped Hermione's bushy, loose hair with a gnarled hand teasingly. "Come along dear. You'll be taking court by storm in no time."

As Hermione succumbed to Arabella's brisk hair brushing Sirius found his eyes drifting back outside the window. The Dursleys were nowhere in sight now, no doubt moved on to another one of the indoor merchants, spending more of Harry's money that they simply didn't have.

"Don't worry, Harry," Sirius whispered in his head, "we're on our way to rescue you."

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

**Authors Note:**

The end of that chapter! Phew, one of the longer chapters I've written, certainly! And although it gave me a little trouble, I really got into it at the end so I hope that comes across. I want to apologise for Luna, because I have NEVER been able to write her very well, which is somewhat ironic because most of my friends vote me most like Luna more than occasionally. Maybe I'm just mad in a different kind of way =S And I also cannot, for the LIFE of me, describe a dress. If you've seen the film it's meant to be the same dress. And if you haven't then you can probably google it quite easily, I'm sure. Here's a link: .

Also, I feel I need to mention that a lot of the dialogue in that last scene between Hermione, Sirius and Arabella is more or less exactly what's in the film between Danielle and Gustav. Some of it is my own, but the majority is not.

And any one guess who the Death Eater's leader is? ^^ Somewhat ironic what that stands for in here when considering what it really is, as most of the witches and wizards in there will be muggleborns. And I know everyone (including me, when I first thought it up) was expecting Dumbledore to be the da Vinci character, but it just didn't work in this scene. Do not fear, though, he shall be appearing.

Oh, and I know Luna and Ollivander aren't related, but in this story they've sort of adopted each other, a bit like the rapport at the end of DH. Again, mainly because it's convenient and it will be explained later in the story, but more like a heads up in case anyone points it out in a review.

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	7. Chapter 6: Pretence

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** '_blah_' = thoughts

Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**A/N:** 2 things for this chapter:

I am dedicating this to **everyone** has reviewed so far, especially annajesse65230, wi11ow, Joelle8, weatherwitch.X.x.X and Wondering Hail.

This is very much a Ron/Hermione chapter, so apologies to all those Ginny/Harry fans. This is how the story must go to begin with but we will get to them later on!

**Chapter Six: Pretence**

Harry was caged.

He stared angrily through the slats of the cage he had been herded into like cattle. His head was swimming with the smell of so many unwashed bodies pressed closely together in the rising sun, uncomfortable pressure on his sides and back where his fellow convicts were pushing into him. There were too many of them for such a small enclosure, but the guards hadn't cared when they drove them in there, swearing and hitting those that had been a little too slow.

That had been a long time ago now, when the sky was only just beginning to lighten with the coming of dawn. They had all stumbled, awakened from anxious and fitful sleep, not quite realising where they were going until it was too late and they were all in the cage. It had been cooler then, too.

Now however the sun was high in the sky and they still hadn't moved, even though the heat was getting unbearable in the close confines. Harry knew, from the mumbles of his fellows, that some of the men stuck in the middle had actually passed out, but no one offered them any help, any water.

No one cared for criminals.

Some part of Harry knew that this delay was accidental. He had after all overheard the guards grumpily talk about the acquisition of all the horses by the aurors for something or other, bad mouthing the pretentious upstarts who thought they could get away with anything, just because they were the royal guards.

But another part of Harry, the illogical, emotional part, felt that this delay had been planned. It was even more humiliating than the trip to the cells in the first place. Then he had to deal with the angry, mocking jeers of the common folk. Now he had to deal with the indifferent, arrogant stares of the nobility.

The place where their cage had been placed was in one of the courtyards leading off the main gateway to the palace grounds. It wasn't slap bang in the centre of the palace, but it was a common enough haunt that soon after the sun had risen it had been frequented by well dressed, superior men and women, all pausing to glance at the cart.

And they all, every single one of them, wore the same kind of expression.

Disdain.

Harry glared at them, fury building minute by minute. He knew what they were thinking, knew how they saw him and the other convicts. It was the same way the Dursleys always looked at him. They looked upon them as though they were something nasty but insignificant, like a slug, that wasn't human, wasn't sentient, couldn't feel. They were just _things_ that were casting a mar on their nice, beautiful castle.

A small part of Harry had wanted, when they first appeared, to call out to them, to plead with them. He was not a criminal – he was not even a commoner – but one of them. They should get someone, _anyone_, and he would prove it to them. He was an Earl, a noble, and they just _couldn't_ sell him off like this.

But since the first well-clad, beautifully made up and heavily bejewelled courtier turned that look on him Harry realised that they would never believe him. And you know what? He didn't want them to.

He had not spoken to any of his fellow inmates, keeping himself to his own miserable thoughts. The only real contact he had with them was at meal times and that was physical, as they were shoving and pushing each other to get to the trough.

But that didn't mean he couldn't listen. Once the frantic scurry over meal times was over, some of the older men would talk. Once the extra convicts had arrived then there was hardly room to sit, let alone brawl. Besides, what good would brawling do? They were already in the palace gaol, already sentenced to a life in a world far from their own.

So they had talked.

And Harry had listened.

Most of the men had nothing and were born with nothing. They were abandoned at a young age, left to try and make their ways on the streets, begging and thieving simply to eat enough to survive the day. Who would take them on? Who would extend a helping hand to a dirty, filthy street rat? And when they tried to clean up, who would believe them? Most merchants and nobles believed their servants were thieves anyway and called the red guards at the slightest hint.

What shocked Harry, though, was how many of them had been sold by their masters, like him, to pay off debts. He had always believed that most nobles were good and fair – like his mum and dad – and cared for their servants, gave them the proper respect and trust that they were due. Now, it seemed, that Lily and James were your a-typical nobles and that the Dursleys were the most common.

Harry shuddered. What an awful world that was.

So instead of cajoling for help now all Harry wanted from the indifferent passer-bys was for them to take notice of him and the others. Just for one – just _one_ – to acknowledge they were human. He wanted to scream and yell, curse and shout, but instead had to content himself with glaring forcefully at every single one. He didn't need the headache a blow on the head from the guards would cause after all.

One of the things that angered him the most, though, was that none of the other convicts seemed to be angry. Instead they looked resigned and upset, a few of them gazing wistfully around the palace as though they knew they would never see something as grand again in their lives.

"Stop thinking about the stupid palace!" Harry wanted to yell at them. "Don't you understand what's going on here – fight back!"

But they did understand and better than Harry, too. They had been resigned from the moment the irons were clapped on. It was only Harry that was still trying to fight, in his own little way. One of the men caught his angry gaze and chuckled sadly. "Give it up, lad," he told him, blue eyes watering with either the sun or tears. "There's no going back now."

Before Harry could think of a reply there was a sudden murmur from the rest of them and Harry twisted his head round, feeling his stomach drop.

Led by a rather red faced man in a gold-embossed purple tunic, were two horses, pulling slightly at their halter. They were here to pull the cart, to take them to the port and the Americas, away from their friends and family. And Harry knew then that, all along, he had been hoping for a rescue.

A rescue that was never going to come.

"Took your bloody time," the guard driving the cart snapped, glaring at the purple guard.

The purple guard stopped and stared at him, expression biting. The guard wilted. "Perhaps you could issue that complaint to the King and Queen," he said, cool tone at contrast with his flushed face.

"No, sir, sorry," the guard said quickly, taking the halters from the purple guard without looking at him.

The purple guard paused for a moment before adding, "I thought not" and walking away.

Reprimanded or not, their guard didn't hesitate to make a rude gesture at the retreating man's back. "Bloody aurors," he mumbled, "think they're oh so wonderful because they're the royal guard. Well," he added, volume rising as he turned to glare at the convicts watching him with a smirk, "I'd let to see 'em get their fingers dirty with the likes of _you_ criminal bastards!" And he whacked out at the nearest criminals with the horse whip, causing a few yells.

Harry turned back, leaning his head against the bars, not caring as they burned him. He didn't want to see this. He didn't want to see the careful not-seeing eyes of the nobility, nor the jeering calls of the townspeople. He shut his eyes. He didn't even open them as the cart started moving, the movement jostling the already cramped men into one another. He just wanted to shut his eyes and wake up when it was all over.

"Stop! I wish to address the issue of this gentleman!"

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Hermione hurried along to the palace, her beautiful dress swishing as she went. In her hand the bag of galleons thudded and clanged, with each step reminding her of what she had to do and why. Not that Hermione was likely to forget anyway, in her current get up.

Hermione felt like a completely different person. Arabella had attacked Hermione's long, bushy hair with brush, comb, lotions, potions, pins, clips, nets and even some spells (provided by an increasingly amused Sirius as Arabella was a squib) to get into something resembling order. Hermione's scalp felt very sore and some pins were still lodged uncomfortably in her hair, but she took one look in the mirror and knew it was all worth it.

She looked beautiful.

Gone was the awkwardness she had felt before upon seeing her reflection. She marvelled at the new person she had seen in the mirror, who looked back at her just as astonished. Her hair had somehow – miraculously – been tamed and Arabella had smoothed it back to be pulled into an elegant bun, secured by a net adorned with real pearls. Part of her hair had also been plaited and twisted around the bun delicately.

In addition, Arabella had enhanced her face with the smallest amount of makeup – notably a little red on her lips and some blush on the cheeks (privately Hermione didn't think she would need blusher if she hadn't been so pale before). All in all, it meant Hermione-the-servant had disappeared.

Hermione, the noble, had taken her place.

There it was: the palace. Hermione slowed down, suddenly nervous again. Her whole look was that of a noble, beautiful and confident, but... what if it fooled them? She suddenly felt the irresistible urge to look down at her boot clad feet to see if they were showing. Why, oh why, had she refused the proper shoes?

But the guards overseeing the bridge over the moat didn't seem to think anything was amiss. They were holding back the rabble of beggars that hounded the palace gates with well-practiced ease, whilst questioning the merchants and tradesmen that may have business in the palace. As soon as they caught sight of Hermione making her way towards them, they immediately swept the others to one side, calling "Make way for my Lady."

As Hermione made her way between them and over the bridge they even _bowed_ to her.

It was the strangest moment of her life. Ever since she was little, Hermione had been used to following others, doing what ordered and showing deference to the nobility, even when she wanted to curse them and beat them relentlessly with a blunt instrument (note: Dursleys). Now to be given that automatic show of respect, to know that others would follow _her_ orders... well, it was unnerving.

What surprised her, though, was the sudden surge of adrenaline and feeling of empowerment that accompanied it. Finally, for the first time in her life, _she_ was taking control.

She walked forward purposefully or tried to appear purposeful. In truth she was not quite sure where she was headed, but it would not do to dawdle. Instead, she found her head flitting all around her, taking in the wondrous sights of the royal palace.

It was not possible to live in the town surrounding the palace and not be familiar with the imposing sight. The turrets and towers rose far higher than anything in the vicinity and its shape was as familiar to Hermione as the mountains that had surrounded Malfoy Manor or the forest around Godric's Hollow. It was just a part of the scenery.

This close to it, however, she could see details that were missed in the faintness of distance; the immaculate, minute carving on the wooden doors; the stone dragons curved around the stone wall acting as water drains; the statues of past Kings and Queens smiling benignly from small arched recesses; the fountains tinkling in the beautiful flower gardens just off to one side...

And then there were the nobles. Hermione had thought that she knew what grandness was: the Malfoys were one of the oldest noble families in the land and liked to regularly boast about the fact, with grand balls and dinner parties for other families that were _almost_ as old as them, but not quite.

But the Malfoys had nothing on the palace, for the sheer scale and variety of courtiers present. There were dresses of every colour, tunics of every style, headdresses, canes, cloaks, veils, swords, fans... The world was a whirl of colour and finery and Hermione found she was overwhelmed by it all. She tried her best to maintain a purposeful, determined air, but every time she caught sight of something new her expressions slipped into one of delight.

'_I must look as obvious as a sparrow among peacocks._'

As she twisted her head this way and that, it was only sheer luck that had caused Hermione to take notice of the cart in the corner of her eye and, when she did, it took her a few seconds to realise why the head with the sticky-up black hair looked so familiar.

'_Oh, bloody Merlin,_' she realised, with dawning horror, all delight and fascination draining away. '_Harry_ _isn't sitting in a cell, waiting to be sentenced. He's being deported _right now!'

She had thought that she would have to petition someone to buy 'her' servant back, possibly undergo a lengthy amount of paperwork and discussions before he would be released, but the reality was now staring her in the face. She was going to have to go and buy him back straight from the guard right now.

In front of everyone.

Hermione only hesitated for a second. Yes, she might embarrass herself, but this was _Harry_. He was her first proper friend, her _best_ friend, and he wouldn't hesitate to do the same for her. Besides, when was she ever going to have to see these people again?

The sound of horses snorting brought her back to herself and she realised, with a start, that the guard was hitching up the horses... that they were leaving!

"Merlin give me strength," she whispered to herself, feeling breathless, before she was running again, not caring if she looked ungraceful or unfeminine. A few nobles glanced her way curiously as she flew by them, but she paid them no mind. She _had_ to get to that cart!

By the time she got to them, the cart was already pulling away. "Stop! I wish to address the issue of this gentleman," she proclaimed as she came to a halt, grabbing the halter of the lead horse to stop it moving forward. In the corner of her eye she saw Harry's head twist round sharply, but she made herself keep eye contact with the guard. All the same she felt once more the upsurge of hope. She could do this. "He is my servant," she continued, voice getting stronger as she gained confidence, "and I am here to pay the debt against him."

"You're too late," the guard said, scowling at her, "he's bought and paid for."

Hermione held up her small bag of galleons, which chinked very nicely. "I can pay you 30 galleons," she said, watching his face.

The guard rolled his eyes. "You can have _me_ for thirty galleons," he said dismissively, before cracking his whip at the horses. "Drive on!"

Hermione made a desperate lunge for the horse's lead again as the horse started trotting forward. This wasn't working... but they were so close! "I demand that you release him at once," she ordered, despairing. He wasn't going for it... it wasn't working... Time, Hermione thought, for a bluff. "Or I'll take this matter to the King!"

He outright laughed at that one. "The King's the one that sold him!" he scoffed, looking annoyed now. "He's now the property of Cartier."

"He is not property at all, how _dare_ you!" Hermione snapped, feeling anger quickly move in. How many times in her life had she been treated like a piece of furniture, or something without feelings or sentience? How many of her fellow servants had been sold by the Dursleys, like they were possessions to be used, to people like him? "Do you honestly think it right to chain people up like animals and shove them in a tiny cage like this? I _demand_ you release him at once!"

"Get out of my WAY!"

"You dare to yell at a Lady, sir?"

The new voice, male, cultured and quietly angry, cut across the courtyard like a knife. Hermione froze. She hadn't realised that she had gained quite an audience in her quarrel with the guard, but it seemed that one of her spectators had decided to speak out on her behalf. And if the way everyone was bobbing was an indication...

'_Please don't be the King, _please_ don't be the King..._'

It was worse than the King.

The male that had spoken was one of the royal Princes, red hair and golden crown making it look as though his head was on fire as he stared at her from atop his horse. She wasn't sure which Prince he was – there were _six_ of them, after all – but he looked about her age, so she would guess either Prince Ronald or one of the twin Princes, Frederick or George.

Prince Ronald/Frederick/George was taller than her and somewhat gangly, with freckles and startling blue eyes set in a face that looked as though it both laughed a lot and scowled a lot. And he was scowling now, though not at her. His indignant expression was saved for the guard, who went as red as his uniform.

The Prince, however, wasn't what got Hermione so horrified. It was the fact that, on a horse next to him, somewhat damp but no less recognisable, was Princess Ginevra.

Or, to be more precise, the Princess that Hermione had attacked just a few hours earlier.

"Your Highnesses," Hermione mumbled, doing the short curtsey that was required from the nobility, even though she quite felt as though the standard practice of flinging oneself to the floor like a commoner would offer her quite a nice bit of anonymity right now.

To her relief, Princess Ginevra didn't seem to recognise her. She _did_ frown at her, but just in a vague way, that led Hermione to believe that she was familiar but she couldn't place from where. She had only caught a glimpse of her face before, after all, and hopefully she would assume that she had just seen Hermione somewhere at court before.

"Y-your Highness," the guard was saying, with a slightly forced chuckle, "f-forgive me, Sire. Princess," he added, with a bow at Ginevra, who just frowned at him. "I meant no disrespect. It's just, er... I'm following orders. It's my job to take these thieves to the coast."

'_Why is he staring at me so_?' Hermione wondered uncomfortably. The Prince's gaze had only flickered over to the guard once, even though he was the one talking. '_He can't tell, can he? That I'm just a commoner..._' But his gaze didn't look angry or suspicious. Instead he looked... surprised?

Her gaze flicked over to the Princess who was looking at the guard. She obviously didn't remember Hermione, which was a relief. The Prince's other companion, a pleasant faced, dark haired noble, was also looking at the guard, though his eyes did flick to hers when she looked at him.

As for the other girl with them... Hermione wasn't sure if she was standing with them on purpose or had just accidentally managed to position her horse right next to them, or if she was even a noble, with the yellow robes she was wearing. She wasn't even looking at Hermione _or_ the guard, just staring off into space somewhere to the side of them.

The last sentence the guard had spoken suddenly penetrated her nervous thoughts and her anger, dissipated by the sudden arrival of the royals, suddenly came back full force.

"A servant is not a thief, your Highness," she said, angrily, "and those that are can't help themselves."

"Really?" the Prince said, disbelievingly, eliciting a bit of a chuckle from the crowd around them. Hermione fought the urge to glare at them. "You realise that's ridiculous."

The crowd laughed louder at that and Hermione glanced at them, anger beginning to get replaced by nervousness. Was she seriously going to lecture a Prince – a _Prince!_ – about how he treated his people? She looked back and caught sight of Harry, eyes wide and staring at her in astonishment and admiration and she squared her shoulders.

Yes, she bloody well was.

"You provide no education for your people, Your Highness, no way for the lower classes to better themselves through education or learn the difference between right and wrong," she started, trying not to sound as angry as she felt. "All commoners can learn of their role in life is how they are looked at and treated by the nobility and if all they learn is that they are lazy and criminals… what else is to be concluded, Sire, but that first you make thieves and then punish them?"

There was a resounding silence in the court. Hermione wasn't sure that the Prince had understood her argument; he looked a bit bewildered and uncomfortable. The same too with the other noble, but the Princess was looking at her thoughtfully (Hermione hoped that was to do with her words and not because she had suddenly remembered who she was). The blonde lady was still staring off into space, although Hermione thought she caught a quick smile shot at her.

"Well, there you have it," the Prince said and Hermione looked back at him. He still looked a bit uncertain, but straightened his expression and looked over at the guard (who was just staring at Hermione, bewildered). "Release him."

Hermione only just stopped her jaw dropping. The guard certainly didn't manage the same. "But – but Sire!"

"I _said_... release him," the Prince ordered loudly, giving him a glare.

"Y-yes, Sire," the guard grunted eventually, and clambered off the driving seat awkwardly, keys clanging noticeably, as he made his way to the back of the cage.

Hermione thought she was about to burst, she felt so happy. A relieved smile lit up her face as she turned, half running, to help Harry out.

As the guard unlocked the door, Harry stumbled out, tripping at the last second. Hermione caught him, feeling tears well up in her eyes as she saw his astounded look of admiration and relief. "I didn't think you would..." he whispered as she gave him a big hug. She didn't care what the crowd thought.

"Well, then, you're an idiot," she hissed back, and pressing a wand into his hand. "It's Sirius' wand," she explained as she pulled out of the embrace. "Just in case. Meet me by the bridge," she added before loudly proclaiming, "Prepare the horses! We shall leave at once!"

As she turned back from Harry, still smiling, she thought she heard Harry whisper, "I'm sorry," but by the time she could turn around to ask him what on _earth_ he had to be sorry for he was already hurrying away. Well, no matter – she had done it! She had rescued her best friend and, even better, her purse of coins still jingled happily in her hand. They were going to need that in the months ahead.

"I thank you, Your Highness," Hermione said as she came to the Prince, and curtsied, positively beaming at him, before going on her happy way. She had done it! Harry was once more a free man and her family was back together, without anyone being caught or thrown in prison. She just had the last few feet to walk and then it would all be over!

She should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

"My Lady!"

The Prince was following her.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

The castle gates dawned ahead and Ron felt a sense of immense relief. '_Finally._'

The trip back to the castle had been... interesting, Ron decided, was probably the best way to put it. It was certainly the politest way to put it. Eccentric, bizarre and utterly insane could also apply, but the Prince in Ron had decided on 'interesting'.

Luna – whose surname, it turned out, was Lovegood and was a noble Lady – was responsible for most of the insani – er, _uniqueness_ about their journey. She had a certain way of viewing life that was somewhat skewiff and to the sides of how other people perceived it and seemed to do most things as though by accident.

Ron thought how she steered her horse was one such example. She rode side saddle, like most noble ladies (not Ginny, though. Ginny and their mother had been in a constant argument about that since she was five. Surprisingly, it was one of the few arguments that Ginny had won), but, instead of facing forward to steer, she _actually_ sat sideways.

It was most disconcerting to see her, sitting on her horse as though it were a simple seat, pointing and dreamily observing the wildlife as it went past, all the time somehow managing to get her horse to go where she wanted it to without actually directing it.

Neville, Ron was amused to see, had nearly walked his horse head first into a tree three times so far because he had been so busy staring at her.

Ginny had been quite taciturn at the beginning of the journey back, no doubt dreading the infamous lecture she would get from the Queen. Apparently, however, that was not what was on her mind, as she eventually started engaging Kingsley in conversation about the Death Eaters.

Kingsley looked quite uncomfortable. No doubt he knew that the King and Queen wouldn't be too happy about him informing Ginny, but as they had given no direct orders about it he had to obey a Royal command. Besides, he probably knew as well as Ron did, that if he _didn't_ tell Ginny then she would just go haring off by herself – _again_ – and get herself into trouble.

Ron himself tuned it out. What did he care about the Death Eaters' motivations behind their attacks? They were attacking people and that was that. The law was the law and they would have to pay.

When he had pointed that out to them, both had looked at him as though he said something stupid, although Kingsley did bow in his direction as acknowledgement. Ginny just rolled her eyes.

So, in the end, it had been Ron that had sulked and brooded his way back the castle, rather than Ginny.

'_Home... food... sleep,_' Ron thought wistfully as he directed his steed over the gates, the guards parting and bowing as he passed. It wasn't even that late yet, the sun still high in the sky, but horse journeys were always tiring and add to that the fact that he had been dragged out of bed a good few hours before he'd have liked...

"What's going on over there?"

Ginny's voice made him jump and he looked over at her, only to scowl as she nudged her way off course, heading towards the edge of the castle courtyard. '_Probably just trying to delay meeting with Mum and Dad_,' he thought, wearily, and made to follow her.

"Don't worry, Kingsley," he said to the auror, as he made to follow the Princess. "I'll take her to their Majesties. Please escort Ollivander and Lady Luna to them now."

"Your Highness," Kingsley nodded, and barked an order to his men. Most of them turned to the right, heading towards the main stables. They made an impressive sight, embossed gold on their purple uniforms glinting in the sun. A small group, headed by Kingsley and including Ollivander, headed straight on to the palace proper.

Luna, however, seemed to have decided to stay with them. "Er, if you follow Kingsley, my Lady," Ron said, probably not quite as subtly as he would like, "he will escort your to the King and Queen."

"That's quite alright, Ronald," Luna said, horse already beginning to move after Ginny. In anyone else, Ron would have been offended at the insinuation of such familiarity, but he had already decided that Luna was quite, quite mad. So he let it go. She was still sitting completely sideways on the horse, hands now playing with her cork necklace. Titters were already beginning to follow her

Ron sighed and looked at Neville, who looked faintly amused. "Nice try, mate."

"Come on," he said, wearily, and set his horse going again. By the time he had caught up with Ginny and Luna he could better see the crowd that had caught his sister's attention. And he could also hear the argument that had drawn it.

"... property of Cartier," came a rough male voice, annoyance resonating.

"He is not property at all, how _dare_ you!" The angry reply was female, youngish and sounded educated – most likely a courtier. As he drew alongside Ginny he could see the participants and they certainly surprised him. The male voice belonged to a guard – not a member of the aurors, but a standard guard, denoted by his red uniform. He was currently in command of a group of ragged, dirty convicts, caged and ready to be transported, but was being obstructed by a young Lady in a yellow, cream and green dress.

It was the presence of the lady that surprised Ron. What was she dealing with the likes of a prison guard for? She currently had her back to them and had missed their arrival, being too busy berating the guard. "Do you honestly think it right to chain people up like animals and shove them in a tiny cage like this? I _demand_ you release him at once!"

"Get out of my WAY!" the guard finally snapped, yelling at the lady.

That, Ron decided, was too much.

"You dare yell at a Lady, sir?" he asked, voice cold. It would be bad enough if such a commoner had shouted at a nobleman but a woman?

He frowned at the guard, who went red under his gaze and began to stutter an explanation.

"Y-your Highness," he said, with an uncomfortable chuckle, "f-forgive me Sire. Princess," he added, "I meant no disrespect. It's just, er... I'm following orders. It's my job to take these thieves to the coast."

Whilst he was speaking, Ron looked over at the Lady, curious as to what sort of noblewoman would go head to head with someone as common as a prison guard.

And stared.

She was young, about his age, with carefully coiled, shiny brown hair, pale brown skin and a small figure shown off by her simple yellow dress. But it was her eyes that captivated him. Although they flitted to the others before coming back to him, when they did he could see the fierceness that was imbedded there. She wasn't the sort of lady to simper and mince. He could almost _taste_ the passion in her and it made him stare rather more rudely than he should.

He was making her uncomfortable, but she quickly shrugged that off, glancing behind her before looking back at him once more. This time there was anger in her eyes.

"A servant is not a thief, your Highness," she said, angrily, "and those that are cannot help themselves."

"Really?" he drawled, disbelievingly. She really was a very strange noble, full of strange ideals. Not quite as strange as Luna, who seemed to be staring off into the middle distance, but strange nonetheless. "You realise that's totally ridiculous."

The crowd did laugh at that and he could see she was trying very hard not to glare at him. '_That probably wasn't the most polite thing to say, Ron,_' he told himself guiltily. However, he was still a Prince so he tried not to look too apologetic.

He needn't have bothered; seemed as though the Lady had no qualms about making _him_ feel as equally embarrassed.

"You provide no education for your people, Your Highness, no way for the lower classes to better themselves through education or learn the difference between right and wrong," she said, in a restrained way. "All commoners can learn of their role in life is how they are looked at and treated by the nobility and if all they learn is that they are lazy and criminals… what else is to be concluded, Sire, but that first you make thieves and then punish them?"

Ron was staring at her again, taken by surprise. He had not read too many books over his years, but he did recognise where the essence of that speech had come from. It was Utopia, one of the most _boring_ books he had ever read in his life. At the time he had marvelled that anyone could enjoy that book, let alone it be considered a classic, but here this Lady was, paraphrasing it with passion he had hardly ever seen before.

And certainly not for a book.

Ron gave himself a little shake, suddenly realising that he'd just been staring at her fierce, passionate face for several seconds and that she – and the crowd – were waiting for a response.

He looked over at the guard, who looked more than a little confused. "Well, there you have it. Release him."

The guard looked astounded. "But – but Sire!"

"I _said_... release him!" Ron glared at the guard. He might be the youngest Prince, but he was a Prince nonetheless and he didn't appreciate his orders being ignored.

The Lady broke into a large smile and Ron felt his breath catch. He had been thinking of her as quite pretty up until then. When she smiled it transformed her face so that it was beautiful.

Then he realised what he was thinking and shook his head.

All the same, he couldn't help but ask his sister. "Ginny, do you know her?" he asked, as the Lady disappeared round the back of the cage.

His sister frowned thoughtfully, still staring absently where she had last stood. "No, I don't, although her voice _is_ slightly familiar." She shrugged. "I must have seen or heard her around court before. She definitely didn't go to Beauxbatons, though. I would have remembered someone like her."

Ron frowned at her. "What do you mean?" he asked, a little bit hurt, although he wasn't sure why.

Ginny grinned at him in amusement. "Oh, dear, Ronald," she said, laughing a bit. "You got it quick."

"What?" Ron spluttered, indignant, although he felt his face go bright red. Traitor.

Ginny took pity on him and simply explained, "All I meant was all the girls at Beauxbatons were the simpering, squealing type. She seems to actually have a personality."

"Prepare the horses, we shall leave at once!"

The subject of their conversation came back into view, this time beaming so happily Ron had trouble not smiling in response. She paused by his horse and curtsied, saying, "I thank you, Your Highness," before walking on by.

Ron stared mutely after her, astonished. Was that it? Was that honestly _all_ she was going to say?!

"Ow!"

Ron turned to glare at Ginny, who had elbowed him in the ribs. "Well, don't just sit there, you idiot," she said, when he opened his mouth to snap at her, "go and talk to her."

Behind her Neville, although trying not to laugh, gave him an enthusiastic jerk of his head, that Ron supposed meant 'go after her'. He glanced without knowing why at Luna, who didn't look at him but said, quite clearly, "Beware of nargles."

Ron pretended he didn't hear that bit, although he could feel the tell-tale burning of his ears.

Sliding off his horse, Ron turned to walk after the quickly vanishing Lady. He was surprised at how fast she was walking. "My Lady!" he called out, trying to stop her.

It certainly didn't work. She did slow down slightly, but not completely. "Your Highness?" she said, politely, twisting to look back at him.

Ron almost stopped walking. Was this actually happening? He had never, _never_, encountered a young noblewoman that didn't grasp at the chance to talk to him (Ginny did not count) – he was a Prince, after all – but this Lady couldn't seem to get out of his presence fast enough.

Ron sped up and cut in front of her, purposefully stopping her. "I don't believe we've been introduced, my Lady," he said, bowing slightly to her. "I am Prince Ronald."

"Your Highness," the Lady said, curtseying appropriately. But then, amazingly, she went around him and carried on walking, leaving Ron, for the second time, gaping after her. He quickly hurried to catch up, but, unfortunately, the peculiar behaviour had so caught Ron off guard that he seemed to be lost for anything to say. So he said the first thing that came into his mind. Which, being Ron, was rather stupid.

"Have we met?"

Still walking, the Lady turned around and looked at him, a bit nervous. "I don't think so, Your Highness," she said.

"You know I thought I knew every courtier at court," Ron said. It wasn't quite true, but he had made a point of knowing the names of all the noblewomen around his age in the surrounding vicinity of the castle. Mainly so he could avoid the most desperate, annoying, clingy ones. Ron had now caught up enough to walk side by side with the Lady. He saw her look at him a bit uneasily out of the corner of his eye but ignored it.

"Well.. I am visiting a cousin."

"Who?" Ron pressed.

"My cousin," the Lady said, determinedly not looking at him.

"Er, yes, I got that," Ron said, staring at her in bemusement. "Which one?"

The Lady turned and looked at him then, putting on a perfect display of innocent confusion. "The only one I _have_, Sire."

Ron didn't know whether to hit her or laugh at her. No one, _no one_, had ever treated him like this before. He was a Prince, for Merlin's sake! "Let me get this straight," he asked, disbelieving, "are you honestly refusing to tell me your name?"

"No!" the Lady said, pausing to look at him, before going red. "And yes." And she was off again.

Any other nobleman – or, indeed, _man _– would probably have taken the hint and given up by now. But Ron wasn't just _any_ man. He was a Prince, true, but before all that he was a Weasley. And Weasleys were stubborn as hell.

The Lady didn't get too far ahead this time before Ron had sped in front and was walking backwards in front of her. "How about you tell me your cousin's name, then, and I can ask _her_ who you are?" She ignored him and carried on walking, but inspiration had just hit Ron about the one thing to say that would guarantee to make her stop. "After all, it's not every day that you meet someone who can quote Thomas More," he added, a bit desperately.

And stop she did.

The Lady turned round slowly, looking both surprised and pleased. "You've read Utopia?" she asked and he was pleased to see that passion light up in those brown eyes, a smile slowly growing on her face.

Ron shrugged. "It was mushy and dull," he said. "The difficulties faced by a commoner… well, it's boring, isn't it?"

Her face fell and she looked at him carefully. "I take it," she said slowly, "that you don't talk to many peasants."

Ron actually laughed at that. "Bloody hell, no!" he said, amused. She seemed to be forgetting who – or, rather, what – he was. He was a Prince. Why on earth would he talk to peasants? "Naturally."

He knew at once that that was the wrong thing to say for, not only did she look disappointed at him, but she began to walk away.

Again.

"Excuse me, Sire, but there is nothing natural about it," she said as she strode away. Her voice sounded harsh, even... angry? "Our country is made _up_ of commoners; they are what gives our country its character, far more than the nobility. Not to mention they're the legs we all stand on. The deserve _respect_, not you mocking and – "

"Am I to understand," Ron asked, suddenly, cutting her off before she got too into her rant (something he had learnt when dealing with his mother), "that you think I'm arrogant?"

She looked at him, considering. She may be angry, that fire burning in her brown eyes, but she was still in control. She bit her lip and said, "Well, you gave one man back his life, but did you even spare glance for the others?"

Ron stared at her. And the worst part about it was she was right. He _hadn't_ looked at the others. They were, after all, just _peasants_. He felt uncomfortable about that. Not too long ago, when he was very little, his family had not been royalty. They were in the line for succession, but far out on the fringes, with very little money to be spared for seven children.

His memories of those times were fuzzy and unclear. He had been just 4 years old, Ginny 3, when his mother had become Queen and they moved into Royal Palaces, money troubles forgotten. But back then they hadn't been so far apart from the commoners that lived in the nearby village. They would gather together on feast days for a local gala and his father in particular had always been ready to help out whatever worker or farmer had a particularly tricky problem.

Suddenly Ron realised that his mysterious Lady had, once again, walked off whilst he was lost in his thoughts. Luckily she hadn't gone too far and Ron cut in front of her, one last time.

"Please," he said, a lot gentler than before, "Give me a name. Any name."

She looked at him one last time, that sad, penetrating gaze. She was judging him then, he knew, judging whether under all his bluster and arrogance he was a good man. He swallowed and stared at her, willing her to see Ron, not Prince Ronald. He could be a good man, if only she would trust him. He had never known anyone like her before, and he didn't think he ever would again. Deep down he had a sneaking suspicion that if she just left without giving him anything, he would never see her again.

And he wasn't sure he could handle that.

"I fear," she said, uncertainly, and Ron felt his heart sink, "that... the only name to leave you with is Countess Lily Ravenclaw."

Countess Lily Ravenclaw. It sounded wonderful. She looked down, as though uncertain that she had done the right thing in giving him her name, but he felt enriched and a thrill of excitement run through him. She went away as he was processing the implications of that thought and he couldn't resist one, last call.

"There now," he teased, smiling. "That wasn't so hard."

She smiled at him, a little uncertainly and looked as though she were about to say something, before...

"Ronald!"

Ron twisted over his shoulder to see, with a groan, his least favourite brother beckoning at him imperiously.

"Come on, Ronald, their majesties wish to speak to you and Ginevra," Percy called, Ginny already looking mutinous by his side. No doubt she had already had a lecture from Percy about running away in a warm up to the much worse one they were about to get from their mother. Neville, wisely, seemed to have fled for the much safer confines of the stables. Luna, however, was standing next to Ginny as well, looking as though it were purely accidental.

"In a moment, Perce!" Ron shouted back, annoyed. Percy was usually so oblivious to everything, it was a wonder that he had ever gotten anyone to marry him. He certainly didn't seem to have noticed that he was currently talking to a lady.

Countess Lily Ravenclaw, he reminded himself happily.

He turned back to talk to Countess Lily, an invite on the tip of his tongue... only to find no one there.

She was gone.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

**Author's Note:**

Not one of my best chapters, although I do like the Harry pov at the beginning. In my first draft of this chapter the dialogue between Ron and Hermione was taken word from word from the film and it didn't quite fit in with their personalities or the more modern language that was prevalent in later chapters. I've reworded it now so it isn't completely word perfect from the film. It still doesn't flow quite as well as I would like, but I'm not sure how to change it.

'Ravenclaw' will be getting an explanation in the next chapter, just so you know.

Thank you for reading, please review.

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	8. Chapter 7: Revolution

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** - '_blah_' = thoughts

- Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

- Some of the dialogue in this chapter is taken directly from the film, although moved about a bit. Some of the phrasing is also take from Harry Potter (PS, I believe).

**Chapter Seven: Revolution**

Queen Molly was trying very hard not to explode.

Ginny just smiled sweetly at her mother and sipped delicately at her tea, the very model of a perfect daughter.

The Queen glowered angrily at her before having to hastily plaster on her own sweetly pleasant expression as their eminent guest asked her a question.

"Sorry, Master Dumbledore," she apologised, "I didn't quite catch that. Could you repeat it?"

Ginny tried not to snigger.

It had been a very different story only an hour ago. The Queen's temper was infamous throughout the Court – possibly even the entire country – and Ginny had the impression that this time the wrath of Queen Molly was going to be bad.

Really bad.

That isn't to say that Ginny had just been preparing to stand there and take it. On the contrary, Ginny had just as many reasons to be angry with her mother as her mother with her. If Ginny was going to be yelled at then she was going to yell back for all she was worth.

So, during the long walk across the palace, Ginny had been busy constructing some very careful – and some not so careful and rather more unpleasant – arguments, remarks and defences to throw at her mother.

She hadn't been too caught up in her own anger and self-pity, however, to pay attention to the rather amusing conversation Lady Luna and her brother (Ron. Not Percy; he was striding ahead full of self-righteous importance and was never one to converse with his siblings about trivial matters. '_What a loss_,' Ginny had thought, sarcastically) were having.

"_Do girls just _do_ that?" her brother burst out suddenly. "Just utterly confuse you, before insulting you, pass moral judgement and then disappear?"_

"_Some do," Luna agreed in her usual dreamy way. "Some disappear first, of course."_

_Ron obviously decided to ignore that last part as the innate Luna weirdness that they'd all become very familiar with over the past hour. _

'Has it really only been two hours?' _Ginny thought, astonished. The fight in the wood felt like a life time ago. Thinking back to the wood brought her back to the Death Eaters and all the disturbing facts she'd learnt about them from Kingsley. _'I wonder if…' _she thought, before giving herself a stern shake. _'Concentrate on one battle at a time, Ginevra,_' she told herself sternly._

_Meanwhile, Ron was still ranting about his mysterious lady. "I mean, she called me arrogant: me! She should try having 5 older brothers and being arrogant; I don't think it's physically possible! Especially when they're all better than you in some way," he added sulkily._

_Ginny rolled her eyes. He thought having 5 older brothers was bad? '_He should try having six!'_ she thought grumpily. '_**AND **being the only girl to boot.'

"_And then, right after accusing me of thinking too much of myself she accuses me of not thinking enough!" Ron continued angrily, swatting at an ornamental tree as they passed through one of the many open courtyards._

_Luna suddenly stopped walking, whipped out a pair of strangely coloured pink spectacles, placed them delicately on her nose and looked very carefully at Ron. Obligated to stop, Ron immediately started going even redder as the lady peered at him with what seemed to be rather painstaking scrutiny. After two minutes of this meticulous examination – during which Ron's face had completely transformed into an as yet undiscovered shade of crimson and Ginny's suppressed giggles were threatening to break out – Luna removed the strange glasses and declared the Prince to have the normal amount of Wrackspurts._

_Ron probably meant to say "I beg your pardon." However, extreme awkwardness and embarrassment meant he actually came out with the slightly ruder, "You what?!"_

"_They're invisible creatures," Luna said. She apparently didn't notice or care about Ron's lack of decorum. Ginny bet it was probably a combination of both. "They make your brain go fuzzy. Most people have them; I'd say you have just the right amount of Wrackspurts for a Prince. I wouldn't worry too much about it or your ability to think the right amount."_

"_Oh, er, Wrackspurts, right, I remember them…"_

_Ginny had given up on finding suitable defences. "If they're invisible how can you see them?" she asked, ignoring the filthy glance Ron threw at her. Clearly he thought Ginny was being an idiot._

_Luna held up her strange spectacles. "They're called spectrespecs. My guardian helped me to make them."_

"_May I?" she asked and Luna handed them over quite happily. Ginny looked at the spectrespecs closely. Truly they were extremely bizarre; the pink structure was etched with all sorts of different runes, whilst the two different coloured lenses – one pink, one blue – glittered and swum slightly under what was clearly an enchantment._

_Putting them on, Ginny gave a shout of laughter as she looked over at her brother. Seemingly darting around his head were golden little specs of light – the Wracksuprts, she presumed – although if that multitudes she saw were a normal amount then she hated to think what a proper infestation would be. For that matter, she hated to think what her Wracksuprt level would be._

_Taking them off, she felt disorientated to be going back to a world of normal colour rather than vivid blues, pinks and purples. Looking again at her brother he had such a look of desperation about himself that Ginny decided to take pity on him._

"_What _exactly_ did she say then?" she asked with a sigh, handing back the enchanted spectacles with a sigh._

_Ron threw her a grateful look. "Something about my not talking enough to or thinking enough about commoners."_

_Ginny stared at him. "Really?" she asked, rather astonished. None of the ladies she had known at Beauxbatons would have even dreamt of even thinking about such a 'lowly' thing. She felt her respect for this mysterious noble rise even higher. "What a strange thing for a Lady to say."_

_Ron waved his arms emphatically. "I _know_!"_

"_I'm not saying she's wrong, Ron," Ginny pointed out, folding her arms. "Just that it's unusual for a noble lady to think of something other than her own reflection."_

"_Eh?"_

"_Not listening to commoners is probably why we get bands of criminals like the Death Eaters," she explained._

_Ron looked at her somewhat incredulously. "I beg your pardon, Princess Ginevra, when was the last time_ you_ conversed with any peasants?"_

_Ginny went a bit red. "This morning, actually," she retorted, sticking her nose up._

"_Ordering someone to turn over their broom doesn't count as a _conversation,_ sister dear."_

"_I like conversing with peasants," Luna cut in suddenly, stopping Ginny from snapping back. It was probably for the best because, like it or not, Ron was right; ordering a frightened servant girl to keep silent couldn't exactly be classed as a real tête-à-tête. "Nobles seem to be trapped inside their houses and all the windows are mirrors that turn back inside. The windows of commoners are all glass, full of air and sunshine."_

_Ron looked even more frustrated and bewildered than before but Ginny shot Luna a shrewd look. Clearly beneath the layers of madness Luna was rather wise._

"_Where HAVE you been!"_

_All three nobles jumped violently, both royals suddenly fearing that their mother had come to find them. They were almost relieved when they turned round to find it was only Percy._

_Almost._

"_What do you think you're doing here, just standing gossiping in the courtyard?" Percy hissed angrily, shooting anxious glances around to see if any of the court were around to see the _appalling_ behaviour of his younger siblings. "You're supposed to be following me to see their Majesties!"_

_Ginny rolled her eyes. "For Merlin's sake, Percy, just say 'Mum and Dad'."_

_Percy's face went a red that even rivalled Ron's crimson of earlier. "It's not proper," he said stiffly. Ginny and Ron exchanged an amused look. Really, it was far too easy to wind their older brother up. "And neither is keeping the monarchs waiting."_

"_Oh dear, Prince Percival," Luna said, suddenly stepping right up to the elder royal, spectrespecs perched back on her nose, "you appear to have quite the worst infestation of Wrackspurts I have ever seen."_

_Percy stepped back in alarm. "Infection of what?" he asked, slightly rattled._

"_Wrackspurts," Luna repeated amiably, tilting her head to consider him. "I think you're in dire need of turning mirrors into windows or it will only get worse."_

_Throwing a glance at Ron and Ginny, who were both trying hard not to snigger, Percy straightened up in anger. He had obviously decided that they were making fun of him but, as Luna was a member of the court, there was nothing that Percy could say to any of them._

_Glaring at his siblings, Percy made his voice as stern and disapproving as possible. "If you would keep up with me this time?" he asked coldly and then turned on his heel and began striding away._

"_Nicely said, my Lady," Ron said, grinning. Apparently his dislike of Percy had temporarily overridden his earlier discomfort. "It takes a special skill to shut up our especially bothersome older brother; I envy you."_

"_I did not mean to offend him," Luna said, somewhat sadly, pocketing her spectrespecs again. "But nothing can get through the windows when there are only mirrors."_

_Ginny just laughed. She decided that she rather liked the strange Lady Lovegood. "Come on," she said, taking Luna's arm in a surprisingly familiar way. "Let's go catch up with him before you have to embarrass him again."_

Suffice it to say, by the time the three of them had walked into the receiving chamber all of Ginny's carefully thought-out sharp remarks and arguments had flown from her mind.

As such, her first thought had been '_Bollocks!'_ Her second, after having looked around, was '_Bloody hell!_'

This second comment was directed to the most eccentrically dressed man Ginny had ever seen. She couldn't help but stare, no matter how rude it looked, and she could see Ron out of the corner of her eye staring quite as openly.

'_Well,_' she thought a little vindictively, '_at least my mouth isn't wide open_.' Ron's mouth was wide enough to catch a small bird.

"Dumbles!" came a loud shriek from next to them and they both jumped as Luna launched herself across the room at the stranger. Ginny could suddenly see where the inspiration for her sense of fashion came from.

The stranger was tall and, if the whiteness of his very long beard was anything to go by, quite old. Piercing blue eyes were partially hidden behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was slightly crooked as though it had been broken twice before.

All this Ginny accepted quite happily. His clothes however…

A large, pointed purple hat, adorned with a shower of stars sat atop his head at a jaunty angle. And when Ginny said 'shower of stars' she meant it quite literally; silvery stars kept falling down the length of the hat only to disappear at the rim. Occasionally a couple seemed to escape the rim and start their own little cosmic dance before exploding like miniature fireworks.

His robes on their own were a rather eccentric choice; hardly anyone wore robes anymore. The wizard's robes were similarly bewitched but rather than stars, they were enchanted with very life-like golden snidgets. They flew around the offensively bright blue material and sat on the embroidered green trees, watching the newcomers with interest. A few of them were fluttering around where Luna was embracing the stranger looking quite disappointed that they couldn't get out of the fabric. Ginny was rather surprised that she couldn't hear them cheeping, they were so life-like.

"Ah, Ronald, Ginevra."

They turned, Ron shutting his mouth with an audible click. "Father," he intoned formally, bowing, as King Arthur moved towards them. Ginny followed suit, dropping into a tidy curtsy as she hastily closed her face off of all emotion. Queen Molly was not far behind her husband, trying very hard not to scowl.

"I'd like to introduce you to Master Dumbledore," King Arthur said happily. "Master Dumbledore, these are my two youngest; Prince Ronald and Princess Ginvera."

Master Dumbledore smiled merrily at them, eyes twinkling. "Pleased to meet you, Your Highnesses," he greeted, bowing.

For a second Ron and Ginny reverted to their expressions of astonishment. This time however, rather than being filled with incredulity, both royals were filled with an overwhelming sense of awe.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard in the _world_. Not only could he do all sorts of things with a wand that no one else could even _dream_ of doing, he was a political activist, a committed progressionist and one of the wizards at the forefront of the magical renaissance that was happening over in mainland Europe.

And now he was here; the very paragon of modern times sitting in the same room as a King and Queen who were forcing their poor children into one of the most archaic and out-dated practices around.

'_Excellent…_'

Ginny tried very hard not to let the inner joy – and evil smirk – she was feeling show on her face. Sinking into another curtsy she said, "Master Dumbledore, we are honoured by your presence."

Dumbledore's smile, if possible, grew even wider. "Actually, Your Highness, it is _I_ who am honoured to be in _your_ presence." He looked over at the King and Queen, who were looking a little confused, and explained, "Apparently during the attack on my companions Princess Ginevra was the sole reason that, not only was the attack thwarted, but that Master Ollivander was not kidnapped by the same bandits."

Ginny tuned pink as her parents looked at her with surprise but she tried not to look too closely at them. She'd like to think that they'd be proud of her – well, her Dad probably would be – but she was sure the Queen would turn it into another round in her armament. Ron she _could_ see quite clearly and he just rolled his eyes in disgust, expression sulky once more.

"I did what anyone would do, Master Dumbledore," she said meekly, trying not to dwell on the fact that she had, in fact, tried to ignore it all to start off.

"I have met all sorts of people in my travels, Your Highness," Dumbledore said, a tinge of sadness in his voice. "I assure you; you are quite the rarity."

'_Bright crimson seems to be catching today,_' Ginny thought as her face flamed to an unpleasantly familiar hue. Before she could make another protest for modesty's sake, Ronald chipped in. "How long are you staying with us, Master Dumbledore?" he asked, politeness masking the sourness he obviously felt at his younger sister stealing all the attention. Again.

"For as long as I am needed," was his rather cryptic answer. "Truth be told, it will probably be quite a while, your Majesties permitting," he added, bowing in their direction. "My dear friend, Garrick, is not as young as he once was and my constant travelling does not agree with him. His niece, my Goddaughter the Lady Luna Lovegood, is also too old to have no roots. Sending her to Beauxbatons was not an option and it is time she had friends her own age." He smiled down fondly at Luna who smiled dreamily back up at him.

"Besides," Dumbledore continued, "England was my first home and I always strove to return here when my journeying was at an end."

King Arthur looked at him, surprised. "I was not aware you are an Englishman, Master Dumbledore."

"My estate is quite far from the capital, your Majesty, and my sole remaining relative has never been one to grace the world of court finery. And, quite honestly, I have spent very little time in England since my youth. You may be able to tell," he added quite merrily, "that was a considerably long time ago."

There was a short silence before Queen Molly took control. "Well, Master Dumbledore, your journey – and that of your companions – has been very long and tiring," she said briskly, smiling at Lady Luna. "I assume you wish to retire to your rooms and rest before taking some lunch with us?"

Ginny immediately froze. Oh dear. Getting rid of their guests was just a polite veneer so her mother could let rip her notorious temper on her only daughter. In the first few years of their reign not even distinguished guests could prevent a wrath explosion from the Queen. However, years of rule had taught Molly Weasley the self-control she needed to contain her temper in front of the court. Now she only displayed her temper in private.

In short, the only way to postpone her inevitable shouting match with her mother was to find a way to keep Master Dumbledore around a lot longer.

Without quite realising what she was doing, Ginny threw a desperate glance towards Master Dumbledore.

He didn't seem to notice, but his eyes twinkled even more merrily as he responded to the Queen, "Actually, your Majesty, I feel quite refreshed at the moment. If it would not inconvenience you, I am sure that Lady Luna and I would be more than grateful for something to eat now."

"I'm afraid I haven't eaten anything all day," Ginny added, cheekily, trying not to laugh as her mother twitched. "I was planning on having breakfast but afraid got rather distracted rescuing innocent civillians."

King Arthur, well aware of what was going on, chipped in with his own comment, trying not to smile. "Well, I think we can all manage lunch now, can't we, Molly dear?"

And Molly, finding herself outnumbered, had no choice but to give in.

"Another sandwich, mother?" Ginny asked, forty minutes later.

'_I am SO paying for this later,_' she thought as she caught the barely suppressed glare her mother sent her, '_but I just can't help myself._' It was fun winding her mother up sometimes.

They'd enjoyed a surprisingly merry lunch, despite the slight coolness displayed by the Queen towards her youngest offspring. Percy had rather shamelessly been hanging off of Master Dumbledore's every word, whilst Luna was trying to explain Wrackspurts, nargles and crumple horned snorkacks to a rather bemused King. Ginny and Ron drifted between talking to Master Dumbledore (and sniggering at Percy) and listening with bemusement to Luna.

As lunch drew to a close conversation became a bit more stilted but Ginny still persevered. Ron, uncomfortable, quickly excused himself to their parents, offering to take Lady Luna on a tour of the castle. Ginny, sensing an avenue of escape, quickly volunteered to join them, but that plan was quickly thwarted by her mother.

"Oh no, Ginny, dear, you're far too tired to go traipsing all over the palace," she had said, smiling just as sweetly as Ginny earlier. "I'm sure Ron will perform admirably on his own although I am sure Percy will assist to the best of his abilities, won't you, dear? Percy is quite the historian you know, Master Dumbledore," Molly said proudly to Dumbledore as a rather startled Percy jumped quickly to his feet.

So that left just the four of them in idle conversation. Ginny had thought that her doom was imminent at that point but she was pleasantly surprised at how well she and Master Dumbledore could keep the discussion going. Every time there seemed to be a lull in the conversation either she or Master Dumbledore would come up with a new topic that would keep them going for another good few minutes.

Having found what appeared to be a staunch ally in Master Dumbledore, Ginny found herself relaxing even more and was even beginning to enjoy making her mother squirm in frustration. She wasn't a bad daughter, she reminded herself. Her mother was going to yell for a good twenty minutes no matter what happened so she might as well have a little fun first.

As her mother declined the sandwich, Ginny turned her attention back to Master Dumbledore having finally relaxed enough to bring up the topic she so desperately wanted to. "So, Master Dumbledore, you are hailed by many as the founder of forward thinking," Ginny said conversationally. "I hear that you are quite vocal abroad about archaic, outdated practices that are practiced by our royal cousins."

Master Dumbledore smiled at her, apparently oblivious to the slight stiffening of the King and Queen. "Indeed I am, your Highness," he agreed. "Much of what we think and practice – especially by some of the older families – makes no sense in the modern world we are living in today. Sadly it seems be an incurable disease amongst most of our noble cousins to cling onto what no longer makes any sense simply due to the unwavering grip of 'tradition'."

"I am sure you must encounter many such 'traditions' in your travels, sir," Ginny remarked innocently. "I wonder if you wouldn't mind sharing your thoughts with us on a few examples? Arranged marriages, perhaps?"

Both King and Queen gasped slightly at that, the latter glaring rather openly at Ginny. Dumbledore looked at her shrewdly. "You suffer from an arranged marriage, I presume, Princess Ginevra?"

"Among other things," Queen Molly muttered angrily under her breath.

"Indeed, both Ronald and myself are being forced into this slavery," Ginny concurred agreeably. "I was wondering if you could convince my parents to join everyone else in the 17th century, rather than floundering around in the Dark Ages."

"Ginny!" her father reprimanded, although it was half hearted. She ignored him and looked to Master Dumbledore expectantly.

Dumbledore didn't say anything for a while, placing his fingers together and leaning his chin against them. You could hear a pin drop, the room was so quiet. Ginny was surprised that her mother hadn't used the opportunity to try and distract the wizard from the subject but when she looked at her she saw that she was just as intent on Dumbledore as Ginny.

Eventually Dumbledore spoke and his answer _wasn't_ what Ginny wanted to hear. "Well, it would be foolish to ignore all the excellent opportunities that arise from an arranged marriage," he said. "Arranged marriages allow countries to form strong alliances with one another; noble families with other noble families. It is also a way of ensuring the continuation of many a noble blood line; marriage means children, heirs."

Ginny was stunned. Was he saying that he thought arranged marriages – no, sorry, selling people into _slavery_ – were a _good_ thing?! She opened her mouth angrily to retort when she caught the eyes of her father. He shook his head slightly and motioned back to Dumbledore.

"However," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling as though he had witnessed the silent communication by father and daughter, "a marriage is about _people_. Not countries, not politicians, but living, breathing people. No matter how well intentioned, the likelihood that real love will bloom is one in a million. And let's not forget that love is the most powerful force on this planet; might and magic are powerful, yes, but love… If you cannot understand love then you cannot understand life. For a life lived without love is no life at all."

Stunned silence met his words. Ginny, despite getting what she wanted, was staring at Dumbledore in something like terrified awe. Ok, so yes; she wanted him to vote against the whole arranged marriage thing, but she was expecting something along the lines of 'it's slavery!' card. This sudden pronouncement of love as the most powerful force in the universe… well, that also freaked her out but in a completely different way. How on earth would she ever find love like _that_?

"Thank you, Master Dumbledore, for your words on this subject," King Arthur said eventually, inclining his head towards the older man. He looked across at his wife before adding, "You have given us a lot to think about."

Dumbledore inclined his head too. "I am glad that my thoughts are of some use." Suddenly he rose to his feet. "Now, if your Majesties would permit me, I would be very grateful to partake in that rest you mentioned earlier and also to visit Garrick in the hospital wing. Princess Ginevra," he said, turning towards her, "I would be honoured if you would show me around." He smiled ruefully. "I am afraid in my old age I cannot easily recall the many meanderings of the palace I memorised as a young courtier."

"Of course, Master Dumbledore," Ginny said, rather hurriedly getting to her feet. "It would be my pleasure." She couldn't help but sneak a look at her parents, expecting a rebuttal to keep her there or at least an angry glare. To her surprise, neither monarch was looking at her, instead staring at each other.

"Erm, I'll see you later, Mum, Dad," Ginny said tentatively, curtsying uncertainly. They both looked over at her with surprise at that, getting quickly to their feet when they noticed their guest standing and ready to withdrawer.

"Of course, Ginevra," her father said quickly, shaking hands with Master Dumbledore. "Thank you again, sir, for your kind counsel. I hope there are many more discussions to come."

"But of course, your Majesties," Dumbledore agreed amiably.

As they exited the hall Ginny couldn't help but steal a glance back at her parents. Was her mother crying? Shaking her head and wondering about the weirdness of mothers – and fathers – Ginny started to head towards the hospital wing.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

On the very edge of Godric's Hollow by the river was, putting it politely, a somewhat dilapidated cottage. In less polite – but probably more accurate – terms it was a rotting, decrepit, hideous, miserable little shack. And, in fact, that's what it was called: the Shrieking Shack.

A careful analysis into the estates archives would show that when it was built some 250 years prior the then Earl Potter had named it Hazelwood House. However it turned out that he was also a bit of a cheapskate as, barely twenty years since its christening, the house was already beginning to fall apart. As the wood decomposed and fell to pieces, the wind wailed and shrieked through the shoddy workmanship, hence its current nickname.

Hazelwood House, Shrieking Shack or Hideous Hovel, the best thing about it was that the Dursleys were completely oblivious to its existence which made it the perfect hide-out for wanted criminals.

Well, that or a fugitive disempowered Earl hiding from his treacherous relatives.

"I still can't believe you managed to pull that off!" Harry exclaimed, not for the first time, watching his best friend in awe. "Although I guess I shouldn't be surprised; you _are_ bloody brilliant, after all."

A few hours ago Hermione would have blushed and smiled shyly at him. Now, however, she just rolled her eyes.

"Yes, yes, I'm a genius," she agreed, grinning.

"But the way you just talked down the Prince – the _Prince_, Hermione!" Harry burst out into laughter. "Sweet Merlin, the look on his face!"

Hermione's face didn't lose the grin but now she did blush. Right now she felt rather embarrassed and ashamed at how she had treated the Prince. At the time she had rather relished the chance to let loose her tongue – and temper – on one of the stuffy, aristocratic nobles that had made her life miserable. Now she had calmed down enough to realise that the Prince wasn't like that, not exactly. He was just caught up in his own little world of royalty and never had the opportunity or the inclination to look beyond the bubble. In fact, she –

"Erm, Hermione?"

With a start Hermione snapped out of her own thoughts and looked over at her best friend, fighting down another blush. "Sorry, Harry, I was thinking."

"About Prince Ronald's startling blue eyes?" Harry asked, innocently.

Hermione promptly lost the battle and her face flushed bright pink. She glared at Harry. "No, I wasn't!" she snapped, indignantly.

"His beautiful red hair then?"

Hermione slapped him on the arm and none-too lightly either. "Honestly, Harry," she grumbled, "if this is how you're going to behave then maybe we should have just left you behind."

She immediately regretted her words.

Harry's silly grin snapped off in an instant and he looked away into the fire.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said, quietly, now fighting back tears.

For a while he didn't say anything and Hermione was left to silently curse her idiocy. How could she say something like that? She was searching for something else she could say, another way to apologise, anything to break this Merlin-damned awkward silence. But before she could find the words, the unexpected happened.

Harry spoke.

"It was… awful, Hermione."

Hermione looked at him in shock. They'd escaped from the palace nearly 5 hours ago now and, throughout the whole thing, Harry had been laughing, giddy and cheery. Of course, she hadn't _honestly_ thought that he'd escaped with no emotional scars but Harry was notorious for bottling things up. The more awful the experience, the longer he tended to hold onto it and wallow in misery and guilt.

Consequently, Hermione had expected at least a week to go by before it would explode out of him (willingly, anyway). She had been planning on waiting at least until tomorrow to get Remus, who was the best 'wheedler' among them, to coax it out of him.

So for Harry to broach the subject after less than even 12 hours… she had a feeling this was a whole new level of bad.

"I've never felt so worthless in my life," he carried on, suddenly springing to his feet. "I mean, I could understand the reaction of the guards and the townsfolk; in their eyes we were criminals, bandits, vandals and were responsible for every bad thing that happens in their lives. I get that. I get mistreating us, calling us names, even the occasional punch or kick.

"But the _nobles_… oh, Merlin, you know I actually wanted them to notice me. I'd call out to them, they'd listen to me, they'd let me out of that hell hole…" Harry laughed mirthlessly, running a hand through his hair absently. "They didn't see me, Hermione. They didn't see anyone; nothing that was worth their time, anyway. We were something like less than human, something smelly they'd accidentally got on their shoe… We weren't human beings – just things."

Hermione didn't say anything, just watched Harry rant and rave and feeling slightly out of her depth. Sure, she was Harry's best friend, and she'd dealt with some of his rants before, but this was completely different. This wasn't bitching about the Dursleys. It was so much bigger than that.

Harry was still raging about his peers. "Yes, _things_. Stupid, unintelligent, unfeeling _vermin_ that exist solely to do their bidding. Who cares about making sure that they have enough food or water? Who cares that any of them work from dawn till after midnight with no time for themselves? Who cares that not one of those stupid courtiers has any idea how the world works, how to even bloody _think_ for themselves? No, none of it matters, as long as they can wash the dishes and scrub the floors and do all the stupid mindless tasks nobles seem to think themselves above? And who cares if they get hurt, or sick, or ill… that's fine, we'll just toss them aside, throw them in jail to get a bit more money and then we can just get a new one!

"Well, NOT ME!" Harry roared, so suddenly that Hermione jumped violently. "I am NOT going to STAND FOR THIS SHIT ANYMORE! Servants are _not_ worthless – Merlin knows that, just look at the Dursleys! What on _earth_ do they do that makes them better than anyone else? In fact, one servant has got to be worth more than all the bloody nobles put together!

"I'm not going to be Earl Potter! I renounce it! I'm going to be a servant or nothing at all – and I'm going to make sure that everyone sees that a servant is NOT NOTHING!"

At the end of his rant, Harry took several deep, gasping breaths, face bright red with anger. Hermione was simply staring at him, mouth wide open.

"You… you want to renounce your title?" she whispered eventually, shocked. "What about Lily and James?"

Harry hesitated slightly at that. "They would know I'm in the right," he said, eventually. "Look at the servants Mum and Dad employed, how the estate was run; they placed value on their servants."

"True," Hermione conceded, still look nervous. "But they also never renounced their title."

Harry glared at her. "I don't want to be a noble," he repeated, angrily. "I'm ashamed to be one. Just look at the Dursleys – for that matter, look at the Malfoys!"

"What about Sirius and Remus?" Hermione countered.

"Yes, Sirius and Remus… Well, what do you know? They're actually decent people, so of course the aristocracy couldn't have that!" Harry exclaimed sarcastically. "'_We must purge the ancient bloodlines so we can remain as inbred and atrociously nasty as possible!_' Their families kicked them out, disinherited them, simply because they were different and decent human beings."

Not quite true, for Remus, but Hermione let that one slide. She didn't want to add social justice for werewolves to Harry's agenda. '_Oh, I wish Sirius and Remus were here!'_ Hermione thought, desperately. If Harry got it into his head to relinquish his claim to the Potter title with a magical oath there would be nothing they could do about it and the title would legally pass onto the Dursleys.

"Ok, ok, I get it," Hermione cried, hastily. "Nobles are the scum of the earth; unfeeling, heartless bastards who treat fellow human beings like doxy shit. So be the one to _change_ that, Harry. Lead the revolution from _within_; be the best kind of noble that you _can_ be and fight with law and reason!"

Harry still looked mutinous. "I don't want to – "

"Harry, LISTEN TO ME! Do you know what will happen if you try and start a social revolution?" Hermione asked. "Sure, the commoners will listen to you and a few of you will get angry enough to join your cause. Most of those that join up, however, won't be ordinary servants like you and me: they'll be unemployed, angry men and women that just want to make trouble and don't care what ideals they're spouting as they do so.

"But – " she held up a hand to stop Harry before he could interrupt. "But, say you do get your followers. What then?"

Harry looked a little stumped at that, but quickly recovered, snapping, "Get the King to listen to us, of course!"

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "The King? The King wouldn't listen to two high-ranking servants – _noble_ servants – about concerns over an underage Earl," she reminded him, matter of factly. "What makes you think he'll listen to a rabble of commoners?"

"We'll make him listen!"

"How?" Hermione asked plainly, ghost of a sad smile about her lips. "Marches? Protests? Burning down a few prominent buildings?"

Harry looked slightly aghast at that. "No – I.. I mean – "

"And do you know what'll happen after that, Harry? The King will execute you. You, your followers, will all be dead and, far from making life better for commoners and servants, we'll all be worse off than before."

Harry stared at her, blinking, for a few more seconds before collapsing in defeat back to the floor, tears of frustration leaking from his eyes. Hermione rushed over to his side then, now that the anger had drained away from him. She held him in a big hug and that's how both of them remained for the next few minutes, in comfortable silence.

Eventually, Harry stirred. "I'm sorry," he whispered quietly, not meeting her eyes. "I was just so… so _angry_. I've never felt that way before, even about the Dursleys."

"That's ok," Hermione said quietly, although she was secretly relieved. She hadn't wanted to admit it, but Harry had scared her slightly. "I'm angry, too."

Harry gave a weak chuckle. "Yeah, but you're still sensible when you're angry. I, apparently, am not."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that… Don't forget that I argued quite forcibly with a Prince of the Realm in front of quite a lot of courtiers just 5 hours ago."

They both laughed at that.

"What was he like?" Harry asked. "Honestly."

"Honestly? I suppose he wasn't too bad," Hermione admitted, mind wandering back to the Prince again. "I mean, he did let you go – "

"Not like he had much choice."

" – and he'd read Utopia," Hermione continued, the only sign that she'd heard Harry's comment was the punch she gave to his arm. "I don't know, I think he's alright, just completely ignorant."

There was a pause before Harry asked what he'd clearly been trying to find out. "Do you think he would listen? If I started fighting for more rights for commoners, laws to be passed, that sort of thing… do you think he would agree?"

Hermione considered that carefully. "Right now? No, I don't think so," she admitted. "But like I said; he's never really thought about it before. If you made friends with him, talked to him, I think you could make him listen."

"Or I could always send you to argue after him," Harry teased. "The undefeatable Lady Hermione Granger."

"Countess Lily Ravenclaw, actually," Hermione said quietly, blushing when Harry shifted to look at her in surprise. "I couldn't give him my real name – what if the Dursleys found out somehow?" she said defensively, when Harry raised an eyebrow. "Then Petunia would put two and two together…"

"Why Ravenclaw?"

"Excuse me?"

Harry smiled at her. "Why Ravenclaw? Why not Slytherin or any of the others?"

Hermione grinned as she shrugged. To be truthful, she didn't know why she'd picked that name out from the other names. Once a month, the four of them – five, if Tonks was around – got together to play a rather rag-tag game of Quidditch. To make it fair, they'd play in a different combination each time and gave the combinations names; Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. A Ravenclaw match consisted of Hermione and Remus, Slytherin Hermione and Sirius and Gryffindor Hermione and Harry. Tonks wasn't often around for matches, but when she was it became a Hufflepuff match and often turned into a bit of a free for all.

The slightly bizarre names were inherited from Harry's parents; more specifically James and his friends. Sirius claimed to not know where they had come from although Remus said that was just because he couldn't _remember_. It was surprising how two bottles of Firewhiskey could affect memories of a night at the town pub.

But, of course, she couldn't tell Harry that it was just random. "Ravenclaw is blue, right?" she said, grinning. "I guess it just sprang to mind because I was lost in those 'startling blue eyes' of Prince Ronald's."

Harry outright laughed at that one and Hermione joined in, relieved to see Harry's rage had dissipated. His anger wasn't gone, but he had calmed and focussed his wrath into a plan of action. In a way, the plan of action was the same as it ever was; incarcerate the Dursleys and get back his title. Now, however, it was bundled alongside a life-long commitment to fighting for social rights and improving the lives of those less fortunate.

'_If you're watching up there_,' Hermione thought to the late Earl and Lady Potter, _'I hope you're proud of him. I bloody well am._'

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Ron was feeling nervous.

'_It's only to be expected,_' he tried to convince himself, ambling anxiously towards the family room. '_Last time I had a royal summons it was to be told I was going to have to marry a French princess! Who _wouldn't_ be nervous at another one the next day?_'

As a result, his footsteps got slower and slower, feet dragging unconsciously at the floor. He didn't think his situation could get much worse but he sure as hell didn't want to find out he was mistaken.

"You've got the call too, I see."

Ron felt his stomach drop as he turned to see Ginny walking towards him, looking equally nervous. If Ginny was being summoned as well then it was most likely about their imminent marriages. '_Just great._'

"I would've thought Mum had screamed at you enough for one day already," was what Ron actually said. "Unless you've done something else?"

Ginny looked affronted. "I haven't done a _thing_!" she snapped. "Although… Mum hasn't shouted at me yet. Not about this morning." Her expression melted back into gloom. "That's probably what it's about, isn't it? Just great."

Ron didn't listen to that last bit however. "What do you mean Mum hasn't lectured you yet?" he asked incredulously. "I thought you were dead for sure when you couldn't escape with Luna and me. How the bloody hell did you manage that?"

Ginny shrugged. "Not quite sure, but I managed to get Master Dumbledore talking about arranged marriages," she admitted.

"Already?!" Ron gaped. Now he was rather regretting making his escape as soon as he could. "What did he say?"

"Something about love being the most powerful force in the Universe," Ginny said, glaring at Ron when he snorted. "It's true!" she protested. "If you think about it, even magic can't really create real love."

"What are love potions then?" Ron argued.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Love potions, dear Ronald, mimic infatuation and lust but they all fade away. It's not real love."

Ron pulled a face. "Even so, love more powerful than a good reducto? It's just absurd; you're not exactly going to beat an attacker by projecting _love_ at them. What a stupid idea. Girls!"

Ginny looked at him, incredulity turning into exasperation. "Boys!" she eventually exclaimed in reply. "You're bloody hopeless! And," she added, "it wasn't _my_ idea; Master Dumbledore was the one who said it and _he's_ a boy. Man, even!" she amended, hastily.

"Yes, and I'm going to take the word of a batty old wizard who charms his clothes with flying birds and shooting stars."

"No, you're going to take the word of the greatest wizard in the _world_!"

"Erm, Your Highnesses?"

Both Ron and Ginny turned from the glaring match to stare in surprise at the footman that hovered nervously nearby. Of even greater surprise was the fact that they had reached the family room.

"Yes?" Ron asked, regretting how snappy he sounded as soon as it left his mouth.

The footman did not seem to mind, simply bowing to the irate Prince and Princess. "Apologies on interrupting you, Your Highnesses, but their Majesties instructed me to fetch you into their presence."

Translation: Mum and Dad could hear them arguing inside the room and wanted them to stop making a scene in the corridor.

"Oh, yes, of course," Ginny said before Ron could reply, glaring at him. Whether this was as indication that their argument wasn't over or in reprimand for speaking so harshly to the servant he couldn't tell but he didn't particularly care either way. Suddenly he remembered exactly why he was walking the palace corridors this late at night and all the trepidation of before came soaring back.

Consequently, when Ginny brushed rudely past him to enter the chamber, he just followed meekly, trying not to look as sulky – or worried – as he felt as he and Ginny greeted their parents. Surely it couldn't be all that bad?

It was worse.

"In honour of Masters Dumbledore and Ollivander I have decided to throw a ball. A masked ball."

'_Sodding hell._' Ron looked at his father, expression a cross between horror and confusion. Whilst balls were an important part of a courtier's life, Ron had always detested them. Fawning ladies, having to try and negotiate the dance floor and all that Merlin be damned choreography… they were a nightmare.

'_Although this time maybe _she_ will be there,_' Ron thought suddenly, mood lightening. Then, of course, he remembered his upcoming doom (aka marriage) and his mood immediately soured once more. Present or not, seeing Countess Lily Ravenclaw would only serve to make him more miserable.

Wrenching his thoughts back to his father, Ron wondered just why exactly their parents had summoned both he and Ginny to tell them about the ball in person. Expecting a very different kind of conversation, mentions of masked balls had utterly thrown him.

Seemed like he wasn't the only one.

"Oh, a masked ball. Yay," Ginny said uncertainly. "Er, why are you telling us this in person?"

"At this ball," their father continued, "we will strike a compromise with the two of you."

Ron and Ginny exchanged glances. He hoped the hope in his eyes wasn't as easy to read as the hope in hers. "A compromise?" he repeated cautiously. "What _kind_ of compromise?"

"If love is what you want we suggest you find it before then," Queen Molly said quietly. "Five days hence at the stroke of midnight _you_ will both announce your engagements to the partner of your choice… or we will announce them for you. Are we agreed?"

"Find love in 5 days?" Ginny yelped, staring at her parents incredulously. "You've got to be joking! That's not possible!"

"You listened, just the same as us both, to what Master Dumbledore had to say on marriages and love, Ginny," the King reminded her. Hearing this, Ron rapidly changed his opinion about Dumbledore's idea about love. If _that_ was what changed his parents mind then hooray for love! "We talked it over and we are willing to give you both a chance to find love. We advise you take it."

Ginny just stared at them both, flabbergasted.

"What of your treaties?" Ron asked carefully, trying to not get his hopes up. Treaties – especially those formed between countries – were long, tedious and complicated. Surely it would not be that easy to wipe all that away?

"Let me worry about France, Ron," the King said with a smile. "You've got bigger problems."

"Choose wisely, you two," their mother warned. "Once made the decision will not be easily undone."

Ginny stared at them both, mouth open as wide as possible, seemingly lost for words. Then, letting out a scream of frustration, she turned and stomped out the room, yelling, "I don't _believe_ you two sometimes!"

Ron felt a pang of sympathy for his sister but that was quickly overwhelmed by his own inner feelings of joy. Suddenly the prospect of dancing with a certain lady at the Ball was no longer a painful thought. He was somewhat aware that he was still stood where he had been, mouth spreading into an ever-widening grin as his thoughts circled and danced, but he didn't care. He had a shot at freedom and by Merlin he was going to take it.

"Mum, wait!"

Queen Molly stopped at the door, turning around to her youngest son with an inquisitive look on her face. "Yes, dear?"

"Do you know Countess Lily Ravenclaw?"

"Who, dear?"

"Countess Lily Ravenclaw," Ron repeated, watching his mother carefully for recognition. "She's a cousin of… actually, I don't know who her cousin is. You have heard of her, haven't you?"

His mum smiled sadly. "Oh, sweetie, there are simply too many courtiers to remember them all by name." The smile turned a bit more pointed. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason," Ron lied quickly, trying to ignore the blush that spread as the Queen smiled knowingly.

"Oh no, of course not. Goodnight, Ron."

Ron murmured a goodbye as his thoughts turned once more to Countess Lily Ravenclaw. So far she was the only noble lady he'd come across that seemed to have a mediocre of life and intelligence in her. All the others were either clingy, shallow airheads – Lady Lavender Brown, for instance – or extremely weird – Lady Luna Lovegood. Neither choice of bride would make him happy. In either case he would end up hiding from them in his own castle; not the recipe for a healthy marriage.

Countess Lily Ravenclaw on the other hand…

'_Although,_' Ron remembered anxiously, '_she did rather seem to despise me.'_ He winced again as he thought of the rather unpleasant remarks she had made on his character. Maybe she didn't like him at all?

No, Ron decided, that wasn't it. It was more as though he had disappointed her; that he fell short of what she had expected him to be.

If that was the case then he knew the solution; become the sort of person that she wanted him to be. It would be tricky – she had used a lot of confusing arguments and seemed to have rather bizarre high expectations – but it was possible.

Ron grinned. '_Watch out Countess: here I come!_'

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Thanks for reading,

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	9. Chapter 8: Stones

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** - '_blah_' = thoughts

- Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**Chapter Eight: Stones**

The task of waiting on the Family of a noble estate was always subject to much contestation amongst the servants. Contrary to the majority, however, the servants of Godric's Hollow fought and argued with each other to _not_ receive the dubious honour. The bulk of the time such competition was moot as the Dursleys preferred to humiliate their noble relative with the menial, subservient duty. When Harry was otherwise indisposed, however, the fight between the other three servants could dissolve into some rather imaginative pranking.

Now, with Harry a fugitive, Hermione juggling her tasks with looking after him and Sirius liable to commit a triple homicide if left in the presence of the Dursleys for any period of time, the doubtful honour had fallen to Remus.

"You rang, my Lord, my Lady?" he intoned mildly.

As usual, the Dursleys didn't even glance at him. "Yes," Petunia said, as succinctly as possible, as though every millisecond spent talking to him caused her pain. "Madam Malkin will be here soon. Make refreshments."

Remus bowed, face as blank as ever, although inwardly he was very surprised. The Dursleys seemed to go through a phase every four to five months of 'preparing' Dudley for court. Usually all that this entailed was a slew of orders, rather patchy etiquette lessons and wasting money on materials for a new set of court dress that were never made. This was a break in the pattern. And not a good break.

"Of course, my Lady," Remus agreed, backing out of the family drawing room. As he walked back to the kitchen, his mind worried at this new development. Could it be that, rather than pretending at it, the Dursleys _were_ actually going to present Dudley to the Royal Court?

'_But it makes no sense,_' Remus thought, frowning. '_If they present Dudley then surely _someone_ is going to remember Harry eventually. Then what will they do?_'

But no matter how much he told himself that it made no sense, Remus couldn't fight off the worry and nervousness he was feeling inside. And, to add to the evidence, he suddenly remembered the fuss and bother at the market yesterday.

_Remus didn't know why the Dursleys bothered to parade around the market place, trying on jewellery, examining furniture and analysing the latest fashions. They had driven the farm into the ground, only the magical expertise of its servants able to keep the farm afloat. Every time they went on a spending splurge at the market place the next day more and more of Lily and James' possessions were sold off the next day to try and satisfy the creditors._

_But then, he thought bitterly, they had a sudden surplus of money these days. He didn't know how much a servant went for these days, but it seemed to be enough to warrant a spending spree._

'And a worthless one at that,_' Remus thought incredulously, trying to keep the expression from leaking onto his emotionless façade as he watched all three Dursleys converge on the shop belonging to the best sword makers in London._

"_Well, what do you think, Dudley?" Vernon rumbled, looking around. "Need to have a decent sword to be a proper nobleman."_

_Dudley looked around at all the gleaming weapons with an expression of unadulterated greed. Watching him, Remus felt a pang of anxiety. Dudley was a monster, yes, but given his aversion to exercise and movement in general he was a rather safe monster. Give him a weapon… Remus shuddered._

"_How about this one, Diddykins?" Petunia asked, looking rather uncertainly at a short sword with an inlaid gold handle._

"_May I help you?" The salesman, sensing a sale, appeared at Petunia's elbow. "Er… my Lord, my Lady," he added hastily as Petunia glared at him expectantly._

"_Yes, we require a sword," Petunia said stiffly, inclining her head towards Dudley who was still staring round in glee._

"_Of course, a sword for the young master," the salesman agreed, nodding enthusiastically. "Will this be your first sword, my Lord?" he asked Dudley._

"_Yes, yes, get on with it," Vernon roared, impatiently, glaring at the man. "We've told you what we want, don't try and waste time from your work in idle conversation with your betters. Lazy beggar! If we get any more of this time-wasting attitude then we'll get you thrown out onto the street!"_

_The poor salesman blanched and hurriedly run off to fetch them a suitable sword. Remus stared after him sympathetically. The threat Vernon made was sadly not an empty one. No matter how unreasonable – or hideous – they were, and no matter how prosperous the merchant, if a noble took it to their head to destroy them there was not much a commoner could do to stop them._

_As the merchant came back with a selection of swords, Remus caught Petunia's eye. She wrinkled her nose at him and snapped, "Wait outside."_

_More than happy to escape the uncomfortable atmosphere of the shop Remus stepped outside and took a welcome breath of fresh air. Settling into a more comfortable stance Remus couldn't help his gaze from wandering over to Madam Malkins._

_He had managed to avoid it so far, fearing that if he looked at it too often the Dursleys would notice and somehow, inexplicably, work out that something was up. Yes, it was irrational and in more ways than one; for starters the Dursleys took great care to never look at their servants more than was physically unavoidable. They preferred to treat them more as moving furniture; useful, but unthinking. And for the second, even if they _did_ notice Remus glancing more frequently than usual at Madam Malkins they would never guess the reason was that Hermione was inside, preparing to rescue Earl Harry Potter from the imprisonment they had condemned him to._

'Good luck, Hermione,_' Remus thought, hardly even able to think of all that weighed on the poor witches shoulders. He looked on Hermione as a daughter, just as Harry was his son. He almost forbade her to go, not being able to bear losing another child. But he also trusted her and it was for that reason alone that he had convinced Sirius to let Hermione try._

"_No!" Petunia's suddenly snapped out from inside the shop. Remus jumped and whipped around, briefly worrying that his subversive thoughts had gotten her attention. "That's far too short; it needs to draw attention."_

"_I fear, my Lady, anything larger may make him fall over," came the quivering voice of the salesman. Remus could almost hear the glares he must be getting for making that comment._

"_Perhaps you are right," Petunia said icily. Remus caught a glimpse of her moving towards the door. "We shall have to look elsewhere."_

"_Wait! I have just the thing!" At once the shape of Petunia moved back out of view._

'Poor man,_' Remus thought, not for the first time. He could clearly hear the resignation in the man's voice; whilst he would have loved to have been freed from the rude, demanding Dursleys, if it became known he let a sale pass from his grasp then he could have lost his job. If the Dursleys put it about town that he was difficult then the shop could lose business. The Dursleys were such a vile example of humanity. Harry was their only real chance at getting rid of them._

'Good luck, Hermione,_' he repeated and sent a silent prayer to anyone who was listening to let him keep his strange little family together._

And it seemed that Remus' faith had paid off. He wished he could have seen Hermione in all her splendour. As it was he only caught a quick glimpse of her that afternoon as she had run back into the homestead, beautiful gown stuffed into an ugly brown cloth bag to return to Arabella as soon as possible, hair an unruly mess once more.

De-robed and un-made as she was, however, the pure joy made her look prettier than ever and Remus suddenly appreciated more than ever that the frightened little girl they had taken in so many years ago was now a wonderful, intelligent adult. He couldn't be more proud.

"_I did it, Remus!" she cried, grabbing his hands and dancing him round the kitchen. "Harry's safe."_

"_Brilliant, Hermione!" Remus said, grabbing the young girl into a hug. "Is he ok? They didn't hurt him?"_

_Hermione shook her head although she looked a bit uncertain. "No, they didn't hurt him – not more than to be expected in a prison. But they were getting ready to ship him out that day – I only just arrived in time!"_

_Remus stared at her, aghast. If they had delayed their plans by one day – or even from the sound of it a mere ten minutes than Harry would have been lost to them forever. "Then we must thank God for our unexpected saviour," he said eventually. "If Princess Ginevra hadn't stolen that broomstick –and you caught her…"_

_Hermione nodded, suddenly solemn. "We were very lucky."_

_They stood there in silence before a noise from upstairs suddenly brought reality back to them. Although the Dursleys couldn't possibly know about Harry's miraculous recovery if they caught Hermione hanging about down below no doubt they would find some task for her to perform that would stop her getting back to him._

"_I'm just going to grab some food and blankets," Hermione said, piling her chosen provisions into a basket. Tapping the basket she murmured a quick notice-me-not charm. It would not do for the Dursleys to spy her from the house and wonder where she was taking so much food!_

"_We'll try and get together tomorrow evening," Remus murmured to her, opening the back door. "Tonks should be back tomorrow and we can plan what to do next."_

_Hermione nodded, smiled, gave him one last joyful hug and whisked out of sight._

Climbing down the stairs into the kitchen, Remus was surprised to see Sirius. His best friend rarely made it into the house during the daytime, busy with overseeing the farm and horses. He also, though he would never admit, went out of his way to avoid the Dursleys wherever he could.

"What are you doing inside, Sirius?" Remus asked, frowning. Was something wrong?

"Garden needs de-gnoming," Sirius shrugged nonchalantly, although his eyes twinkled merrily. "I have to ask their permission.

Gnomes seemed to be a constant irritation to the lands of Godric's Hollow. The Dursley family took this sudden need to de-gnome the garden as yet another sign that magic was unnatural and incorrigible – after all, however many times their faithful staff went out to exterminate them, the supernatural creatures always seemed to grow back in numbers ridiculously fast. Having been bitten by gnomes before, the Dursleys scowled whenever Sirius informed them that they were out of control and gave him leave to spend the day getting rid of them.

Of course, what Sirius had failed to mention was that de-gnoming an estate – even one so large as Godric's Hollow – took very little time and did not, in fact, involve any sort of extermination. As a result, the Dursleys spent the day huddled in the house, fearful of even looking out the windows in case they accidentally inhaled some sort of poisonous substance or glimpsed the light of a spell, whilst their servants could enjoy a wee bit of free time away from their oppressors.

Remus' frown deepened. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea," he said slowly.

"Why not?" Sirius asked, scowling. "I need to see my Godson!"

"Well I can't blame you for that, Padfoot," Remus said, "but they just summoned me to make tea and refreshments for Madam Malkin." At Sirius' confused look, he added, "Seems they're being fitted for Court clothes today."

Sirius' confused look turned into one of incredulity. "Court clothes?" he repeated. "You mean they're actually making some?"

"It seems so." Remus paused for a bit before shooting a worried look at his best friend. "Sirius, you don't think they actually _mean_ to go to Court this year, do you?"

Sirius gave out his bark of laughter. "Don't be ridiculous, Moony, the nearest they've ever been to the palace is the market place!"

Remus, however, was not convinced. "But there was that sword, yesterday…" He hadn't actually properly seen the thing they'd bought, wrapped in heavy cloth as it was, but he certainly knew the weight of it. His arms still ached from carrying it back to the Hollow. And the salesman was right; it was far too long for Dudley.

Sirius was not to be swayed. "Just another pointless extravagance at Harry's expense," he dismissed. "Besides, they'd have to be completely insane to present Dudley at Court without Harry. The Potters are a very old and important noble family. People are bound to notice his absence." When Remus didn't say anything, he changed the subject thinking the argument was over.

And in a way it was over, for Remus could not think of a single reason why the Dursleys would ignore Sirius point. Dudley and maybe Vernon were stupid enough to try but the real power in the family lay in Petunia and she was one cunning woman. She would never be so stupid or ignorant, like Sirius had pointed out to him.

Would she?

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Neville's day had started out normally enough. Waking up not too long after dawn, he joined in with the aurors as they performed their daily morning training. That particular day it consisted of a 3 mile run, half an hour of muscle strengthening and then a series of fencing bouts in which Neville was victor for all but one, where he was most soundly trounced by Auror Shacklebolt.

Very few of Neville's fellow nobles bothered with such an exhausting commitment as daily auror training. The aurors were not the Royal Guards for just their fancy wand work after all. Ron, despite having been along to one of Neville's first training sessions, and most of their peers were quite baffled by Neville's continuing hard work. Nobility, after all, handed them all an easy, comfortable life, free of any obligation to work hard at anything at all. To learn the art of fencing was considered part of a noble son's standard education but it was only ever used for two different purposes; to exhibit skill in competition and to settle disputes. Fencing was a hobby for these nobles, nothing more.

Neville, however, had a secret ambition, one that he had never told anyone, not even Ron. Duke Frankincense Longbottom, currently working as his Majesty's Royal Ambassador to Florence, had been the Captain of the Aurors for fifteen years. As well as receiving many honours during his tenure, Neville's father had also done much good for the Kingdom. Most notably, he played a large part in keeping the Kingdom together during the unease and unrest that had gripped England in the wake of King Ignatius' passing. A Royal death and a series of abdications did not bode well for a happy country and many had taken advantage of England's weakened state.

Neville had grown up listening to his father's stories of uncovering treasonous plots, arresting thieves, unearthing foreign spies and once even foiling an aristocratic kidnapping ring. Duke Longbottom instilled in his young son a sense of duty and responsibility towards crown and country that he had never forgotten.

So Neville worked and practiced, no matter what the weather threw at him, nor the insults that followed, to be the very best and get to know the men that he one day secretly hoped to lead, just like his father.

Once practice was over, Neville made his way to the bath house for a quick was before heading back to his rooms to mentally prepare himself for what was increasingly becoming the most trying part of his day.

This daily trial was a fairly recent addition to Neville's day. Before, he could eat breakfast with his peers; if Ron was awake and not called to a family meal then they would breakfast whilst planning what to do with their day; and sometimes he would eat by himself, just for the company of his own thoughts. Unfortunately, a solitary breakfast was now nought but a distant dream.

"Good morning, Neville."

"Good morning, Grandmother."

Dowager Duchess Augusta Longbottom looked down the breakfast table at her grandson, scrutinising him closely. Ever since hearing that Neville had declined to accompany his parents to Florence, choosing instead to remain at Court, the Duchess had taken it upon herself to ensure that Neville was both looked after – despite his protests that he was nearly of age – and did honour to the family name.

Neville could now translate these into plain English;

Order him about

Marry him off to a suitable bride

This last one was the one that gave Neville the most grief. Generally most of his Grandmother's orders were sensible things that he had either already done or was about to do. The more nonsensical ones he interpreted as suggestions that he didn't then follow up. Luckily alongside his sense of righteousness and honour, Frank Longbottom had made to instil in his son a lot of self-confidence. This made a handy shield against the sometimes rather demanding Duchess and she had given up rather early on about controlling every aspect of Neville's life.

There was one aspect, however, that she refused to let hold of.

"Is that a black eye I see coming on, Neville?" the Duchess asked, frowning disapprovingly at him. "It really is not seemly; no decent Lady will come within 5 feet of you."

Neville touched his left eye tentatively. Ah, yes. He had taken part in an unarmed combat fighting bout with some of the aurors during training that morning and the second guard he had fought had just clipped his eye whilst Neville struggled to get out of his grip. If his Grandmother could already see it then it was going to be completely black and blue by lunch time for sure. It didn't hurt as much as it probably looked – one of the few perks of getting repeatedly beaten up.

"I thought the ladies preferred black eyes – evidence of danger, a bit of excitement," Neville quipped, digging into his breakfast. Training was hungry work.

Duchess Longbottom wrinkled her nose. "_Scars_ are attractive to ladies," she corrected primly. "They are evidence of partaking in a sword fight, a much _nobler_ weapon than brawling with your bare hands like a commoner."

"I do apologise, Grandmother," Neville said solemnly. "Next time I shall try my very hardest to get stabbed instead."

She glared down the table at him so forcefully that he struggled not to laugh out loud. He did love his Grandmother – sort of – but she was so strict and disapproving of everything he did that he couldn't help but bait her.

"Yes, well, at least it will be hidden by the masque at the ball but finding any decent sort of Lady to accompany you…" she broke off with a dramatic sigh. "We may well have to use some of my magical blemish powder."

Neville didn't know which alarmed him more; the idea of makeup or the idea of a ball. "A ball, Grandmother?" he asked, deciding on the latter. "I've not heard about any ball."

"I'm not surprised, letting common guards beat you up and gallivanting off around the countryside rescuing Princesses that you won't even marry," she stopped once again, sighing wearily. Neville's refusal to marry Ginny – whom he saw almost as a little sister, the idea of marrying was alien and uncomfortable – was a very sore subject with the Duchess. After all, there wasn't a much better match than to marry a Princess.

Letting her disappointment with her Grandson fade, Duchess Longbottom gave herself a little shake. "Now, as I was saying, their Majesties are throwing a grand ball – masquerade – to honour our new Masters in residence and, of course, the impending marriages of Prince Ronald and Princes Ginevra. _You_, Neville, will find yourself a suitable noble Lady and accompany her to the ball. That is an _order_."

Neville barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "Grandmother, I love you, but you cannot order me around."

"Neville," the Duchess repeated, glaring forcefully at him, "you _will_ find yourself a Lady for this ball or _I will find one for you_. Am I understood?"

'_Oh, bloody hell_!' Neville thought, one of Ron's favourite phrases. He scowled at the table. He had met a few of his Grandmothers' ideas of suitable dates. The last one, Lady Lavender Brown, still haunted his nightmares sometimes. "Fine, we have an accord."

His Grandmother smiled happily at him, although it was verging on a satisfied smirk. "Excellent! Now Neville, with regards to who I think your date should be, I believe you should consider – "

But Neville was thankfully saved from having to listen to his Grandmother prattle on about the virtues of various ladies of the Court by the rather unseemly entrance of Ron.

Bursting through the door, looking as though he were fit to explode, Ron yelled, "Neville, you won't _believe_ the news I have!"

Neville, rising to his feet, was failing to keep his grin in check as he saw Ron suddenly realise that his best friend was not alone for breakfast. Staring at the Dowager Duchess in something akin to horror as she creakily rose from her seat, Ron went bright red as she bowed neatly to him.

"Good morning, your Highness," she intoned. Royalty or not, however, she still managed to fix him with a disapproving stare.

"Um, good morning, Duchess," he replied, sketching an awkward bow in acknowledgment. "I'm, er, sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but would you mind terribly if I stole away Lord Longbottom?"

"Who am I to deny his Highness?" the Duchess replied, although her tone was nothing so meek as her words. "Remember what you have been instructed, Neville. Now begone!"

Neville was so fit to bursting with laughter that he did not trust himself to speak. Instead, he bowed to his Grandmother and scurried out the room, an abashed Ron hot on his heels. Reaching the end of the corridor he suddenly burst into great guffaws of laughter.

"Shut up, Neville," Ron snapped, ears still red from embarrassment.

"Sorry, Ron," Neville replied and eventually managed to get his laughter under control. "But what on earth made you rush in like that? You know I always have breakfast with the vulture."

The 'vulture' was their nickname for the Duchess Longbottom. It had originally been 'dragon' until Neville had caught sight of a magnificent stuffed vulture in her rooms.

"Just wasn't thinking," Ron shrugged, ears calming back down to a more normal colour. "I've got some news to tell you."

"Yeah, already heard about the ball," Neville said, grimacing. Both Prince and Count-in-Waiting hated royal balls with a passion. "Sucks, hey?"

"No, no, that's not it!" said Ron, grinning so widely Neville was alarmed. "Well, yeah, they generally do suck, but that's not my news; the wedding's off!"

Neville stared at him, flabbergasted. "What, just like that?" he got out eventually. "They only announced it, what, three days ago?"

"Two, actually, but never mind," said Ron, waving a hand dismissively. "All that matters is Master Dumbledore said some big old story about the power of love and voila! No more French bride."

Neville still couldn't believe it. "There's no catch or anything? You're just completely single Prince Ronald again? And Ginny, too?"

Ron frowned. "Well, there is a condition," he admitted. "We have until the ball to find someone we want to truly marry – someone we love – and then we announce our engagement to them instead. Else it goes back to being little miss French Princess."

Neville couldn't quite understand why Ron looked so happy about this. "Ron, we haven't managed to find a girl we want to court in _two years_ – how are you going to find someone you _love_ in two days?!"

Ron didn't say anything, just went a bit red. Neville had a moment of inspiration. "Is this about that Lady from yesterday?" he asked, teasing.

"No!"

"Right," drawled Neville, just like their Durmstrang year mate Lord Draco Malfoy. Malfoy was a bit of a git, but no one had mastered the art of a good sneering drawl like him!

"Shut up, Neville."

"Ron, you only met her yesterday! Ignoring the fact that all she did was argue with you, do you even know her name?"

"Yep," Ron said proudly. "Countess Lily Ravenclaw." He looked at Neville anxiously. "You don't know her, do you?"

"Sorry, mate, no." Neville looked back at his rooms considering. "The vulture probably does. Merlin knows, she seems determined to set me up with every eligible lady in the castle."

Ron winced. "Not even for true love will I face your Grandmother, Neville."

Neville laughed at that before a thought suddenly struck him. "I say, how's Ginny coping with all this?"

To say that the answer to that question was not well would be akin to saying that the sea was a 'bit wet' or that a quidditch match was 'vaguely fun'. Princess Ginevra Weasley was in a completely foul mood and wasn't being particularly secretive about it. They could hear the shouting and crashing three corridors away as they made their way nervously to her suites.

"Erm, maybe we should get her out of the palace to cool down," Neville suggested to Ron as they stood outside her door which was beginning to smoke a little.

Ron nodded fervently. "Good idea."

So here Neville was, an hour or so later, watching Ginny explode various stones above the waters of the river. It hadn't been an easy task getting her along as she was in such a rage that she shot various jinxes at them as soon as they came through the door. Neville had been lucky; part of auror training involved spell dodging. Ron, unfortunately, was a bit too slow and caught Ginny's bat bogey hex right in the face.

"How's the nose now, Ron?" Neville asked, looking over at the Prince on the bank next to him.

Ron scowled, prodding carefully at his slightly bruised nose. "Fine, Neville. Just bloody fine."

Neville grinned but didn't bait him further. Best friend he may be, but he _was_ a Prince and going through a tough time at the moment. Instead he watched Ginny as she continued to blast pebbles over the water, with surprising accuracy. He didn't think it fair that his two best friends should have to go through all this worry. He thanked his lucky stars every day that his Grandmother couldn't arrange a marriage for him without the say of his father else no doubt she would have connived to have him married off long ago.

"Oh, what a shame."

Neville jumped and twisted around to see what at first appeared to be a massive net. As the net shifted, Ron and Neville found themselves scrambling to their feet as it revealed Lady Luna Lovegood. Today she was dressed all in greens and browns as though attempting to blend in with the surrounding area. She even had created a headdress of leaves and daisies that circled her head like a crown. The whole attempt at camouflage, however, was somewhat spoilt by the large white net that was attached to a long pole she brandished carelessly.

"Oh, er, Lady Luna," Neville said, sketching a clumsy bow. "What, erm, brings you here?" He nudged Ron in the side to stop staring at her.

"You know the crumple horned snorkack has a most distinctive mating call," the Lady informed Neville dreamily. "My father told me that it resembled a great crashing of rocks. It doesn't sound very nice to human ears, of course, but I'm sure it sounds perfectly lovely to another crumple horned snorkack." She sighed, looking over towards Ginny. "I thought I'd finally manage to catch one," she admitted sadly, waving her net around (and nearly bonking the rather exasperated guard accompanying her on the head) for emphasis. "Sadly, however, it seems that the mating cry of a crumple horned snorkack is very similar to the sound of exploding rocks."

Both nobles just stared at her. What on earth could one say in reply to that? Luna frowned at them. "Oh dear," she said, handing her pole to the surprised guard. "You look as though you're suffering from a wrackspurt attack."

And, having said that, she launched herself at them.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Harry jerked awake from another nightmare and berated himself for falling asleep. Again.

'_That's the problem,_' he thought, '_with doing nothing. You can't do anything to keep your mind off sleeping._' He had gotten a few scant hours the night before but, just as now, he had been awoken with bad dreams.

He wasn't sure if remembering them was better than not. He felt that if he could remember what happened then maybe it would disappear from his dream cycle. As it was, he got the feeling that he was just reliving the same nightmare over and over.

Pulling himself to his feet, Harry walked carefully around the small room he had made his 'home' in the Shack. It creaked awfully with every step he took and he winced at how loud it sounded in the relative quiet of the Shack. '_The Dursleys can probably hear this racket back at the manor,_' he thought gloomily, before grabbing a handful of grapes and settling back down on the couch.

Last night Harry had been full of fire and grand ideas on what he wanted to do. In the light of day, plagued by the cobwebs of dreams that he couldn't remember but still left him unsettled, those grand ideas had failed to materialise into anything resembling a workable plan.

The safest thing seemed to be to wait until his 17th birthday but that was still over a month away. His aunt Petunia was not stupid. She knew that Sirius, Remus, Hermione and Tonks were not just going to sit by and let their crime against Harry go unnoticed. Probably the only reason they were still around at all was because she hadn't had time to hire new servants and also because she guessed that they were completely clueless as to what to do about her betrayal.

'_Which, of course, we are_,_'_ he admitted, frustrated. '_I mean, what are my options, really? I could go up there and confront them about it – laughable, they'd just contrive to have me shipped to the Americas again. Or worse: Azkaban._

'_Plan 2 is to take this matter directly to the King. That may not be so difficult. I mean, Hermione walked straight into the palace – and talked with the Prince – with no one challenging her. But that's just the palace grounds. To actually _see_ the King…_'

"If you want to go outside, Harry, it should be safe for a few hours."

Harry jumped at the sound of Hermione's voice to see her smiling in at him from the doorway. '_Wow, I must have been really absorbed in my thoughts if I didn't hear her get all the way up that creaky staircase,_' he thought, even as he smiled back. "I think some fresh air would be _perfect_ Hermione, thank you," he said, getting to his feet with a groan. "I'm getting absolutely nowhere; my head's just going round and round."

Hermione's smile immediately dropped. "Oh, Harry, I know it's awful, but we _will_ work something out!" she promised, fiercely. "The Dursleys just _can't_ be allowed to get away with this!"

Harry laughed at how furious she looked, his heart warming. It was so easy, shut up in the gloomy confines of the Shrieking Shack, to forget that he didn't have to go into battle completely on his own; he had his family, who would stand by his side.

"Don't worry, Hermione, they won't," he said, giving her a huge hug. "How can they, with you, Sirius and Remus by my side?"

She went red but smiled at him. "Come on. Sirius has told the Dursleys it's degnoming day so they're going to be shut up inside the manor all afternoon."

"Excellent," said Harry, grinning in anticipation. "I could do with a bit of stress relief – degnoming sounds perfect."

"Sorry, Harry, but Sirius and I have already done it," Hermione told him apologetically. "It's too risky being that close to the manor," she reminded him when he scowled.

Harry took a deep breath and then let it go. "I suppose," he admitted. "Let's get down to the river at least. Unless you object to my taking out my frustrations on a few poorly stones?"

Hermione grinned and shook her head. "Of course not, Earl Potter."

"Lead the way then, Countess Ravenclaw."

Hermione could slap pretty hard when she wanted to.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Ginny had learned rather a lot of things that day.

Ron made a wonderful screeching wail when hit with a bat bogey hex

Using reducto to smash pebbles into oblivion was a great way to work off rage – and also to improve her wandwork

Fending off wrackspurts could be a hazardous affair

There she had been, quite happily banishing rocks over the river bed and blasting them to smithereens, when from behind her she suddenly heard the most awful commotion. Turning around in annoyance she had felt her mouth drop open as she took in the sight of her brother and Neville being attacked by a small tree and cloud.

As she raced towards them this unlikely image resolved into Lady Luna Lovegood and a shocked guard holding a vast net. Ron and Neville seemed to be dodging about and tripping all over themselves in confusion as Lady Luna ran around them waving her hands madly at them.

Ginny stopped and stared at them in complete astonishment. "Lady Luna, what on _earth_ are you doing?" she asked, finally.

Luna paused in her attack and smiled absent-mindedly at her. "They're both suffering from a wrackspurt attack," she informed the bewildered Princess calmly. "I'm helping them to fend them off."

"By _attacking_ us?" Ron yelped from where he was ducked with his hands clasped over his head.

Luna looked rather surprised at that. "Of course not, Ronald. What a bizarre thing to say."

He straightened up and looked at her incredulously. "Then what in Merlin's name were you doing just now?"

Luna stared at him sadly. "It seems my defence of your brain has not worked. I am very sorry."

"Well, of _course_ it wouldn't, not with you trying to whack all sense out of it!" Ron snapped angrily. He opened his mouth to say more, but was stopped by a peal of laughter from Ginny.

"Oh, Ron, you _are_ an idiot!" she laughed. "Luna was attacking the air _around_ you – not trying to hit you, you dunderhead."

Ron went bright red at that. "Shut up, Ginny," he muttered, glaring at her.

But Ginny couldn't seem to stop laughing at him and Neville. And then, all too suddenly, she was crying instead and she couldn't seem to stop that either.

Neville and Ron both looked as flabbergasted as before which just made her start laughing through the crying as she sunk to the floor. They looked even more alarmed at that. They just stood awkwardly watching her sob her heart out like a mad woman. '_Boys!_'

Luna didn't say anything either but unlike the boys she wasn't frozen into inaction. Walking forward she simply sat down next to Ginny and played with her headdress. Ginny was grateful. It seemed like she never had a chance to do what she wanted without having to explain it to _someone_, even something as simple as crying her heart out over a hopeless situation.

"Oh, Luna, what am I going to do?" she said eventually, once she'd called down a bit. "I can't possibly find someone I love in three days. It's ridiculous! Why are my parents putting me through all this heartache?"

For one split second, Luna looked so very solemn and wise, that Ginny was sure that whatever she was going to say was going to be extremely profound and make all her troubles vanish. After all, the witch lived with Master Dumbledore, the greatest and wisest wizard alive. She must have picked up something. Right?

"I feel like water skating."

Or not.

"Water skating?" Ginny repeated, confused.

"It's like ice skating, but on water," Luna elaborated, although elaborated was a loose term. "Uncle Dumbledore helped me with the spell. Do you want to try?"

"Erm, no, not really. I'm not in the mood."

Twenty minutes later, Ginny was gliding and swirling all over the surface of the river, laughing in delight. '_So maybe Luna is a bit wise after all,_' she thought as she circled round a rather confused looking frog. There was something about racing about the river, sun on her face, and hair blowing wild that made her feel hopeful again. It was hard to feel depressed and fatalistic when gliding along in the summer sun.

'_I'm not going to let this stupid marriage thing defeat me,_' Ginny promised herself fiercely. '_I can find love in three days – and if I can't… well, _I'm_ going to decide who I marry. They may be able to get me down the aisle, but they can't make me say _'I do'_._

'_Nothing is going to bring me dow –'_ "ARGH!"

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Knobble was not your average garden gnome. In appearance, true, there was not much to tell him apart from his leathery brethren. His head could blend in very well with the most knobbly of the garden potatoes; his height was a very respectable and average 2 foot 1 inch; and his eyes were the same muddy grey-brown of his cousins.

However, it is often said that it is what is inside that counts, and this is where Knobble differed very greatly from his species; Knobbles brain was 25% larger than average. Whilst this meant very little in terms of his worm eating ability, it meant that when the great giant reaping occurred, Knobble could find the best hiding place in the gardens. What's more, once he _found_ the perfect place, Knobble had the will to _stay_ there. He watched with scorn as, reaping after reaping, his unintelligent brethren gathered with stupid excitement to watch the travesty befalling their neighbours, only to have it happen to them not 20 seconds later.

On that particular morning, however, Knobble's great hiding place had been discovered. Full of anger and shame at his detection, Knobble plotted revenge on his attacker even as he found himself hurtling through the air.

Now it was several hours later and, to Knobble's further indignity, he still could not accurately find his way back to his comfy little burrow under the carrot patch. Walking round in dizzy circles, he suddenly heard something – and then smelled something – that he remembered.

It was the giant! The one that had discovered him! Extra 25% filled with thoughts of revenge, Knobble stumbled as quietly as he could towards the sound of the giant. Eventually managing to trip over into a large, leafy bush, Knobble waited for his head to spin less and peered out at his abuser.

There it was! Making that awful noise that giants made it was gabbling at another giant, standing at the edge of the great water. Knobble felt uncertain at this. _Two_ giants was rather ambitious, even for him. But he quickly pushed aside doubts. This was _his_ moment of glory!

And so, creeping carefully, he made his dizzy way towards his unsuspecting victims…

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

"Aha! 5! Beat that, Miss Granger!"

"Don't mind if I do, Mr Potter." Hermione angled her hand and whipped her pebble out at the flowing river. It bounced of the surface, skimming along 6 times before it sank beneath the blue-green murk. "And beaten."

Harry grinned at her and she felt a bit of relief at seeing him smiling. She hadn't slept at all well last night, thinking about Harry's outburst and then him being left alone with all those dark thoughts all day. Harry was a very sensible wizard – certainly more sensible than Sirius – but when he got into his head a noble cause then he could sometimes rush into situations without thinking about them.

"So Tonks is getting back tonight," Hermione said as she and Harry both hunted for more stones. "I thought we could meet up this evening and start planning what to do."

Harry nodded his head. "To pull this off, we're probably going to need every kind of contact we've ever made," he said, grimly. "I'd like to believe that the King will take my word for it, but all Petunia needs to say is that I'm her servant and that's that. People would certainly corroborate her story. None of them know who I really am."

"But Petunia will then need to produce Earl Potter from _somewhere_," Hermione pointed out. "When he – you – fail to materialise then the King is going to know that you're telling the truth."

Harry threw aside one unsuitable stone into the river and picked up another to examine. "That could take weeks – months even, if Petunia were clever about it, and she will be. By that time she could have had me shipped off to all sorts of unreachable places."

"I guess you're right," Hermione sighed, bending over to pick up a nice flat pebble. "So I suppose we'll have to ARGH!"

The next thing Hermione knew she was face down in the muddy water, clothes sopping wet and the unmistakable weedy taste of river mud in her mouth. Dragging herself upwards she spat the mud out of her mouth and turned back to stare at Harry.

"What on earth – " she started before yelling as Harry too was propelled forward to land sprawled at her side.

"What's going on?" he spluttered as he dragged himself up out of the mud, but Hermione only had eyes for the small brown creature that was hopping up and down on the bank. It gave what was unmistakably a maniacal laugh, blew a raspberry at her and Harry before running off into the woods on unsteady miniature legs, shrieking something that sounded like "Knobble, knobble, knobble!"

"Was that a gnome?!" Harry asked, incredulously.

"Yes it was," Hermione confirmed, still staring at the river bank in shock. "A gnome that head-butted you on your backside to make you fall in the river." And then she burst into laughter.

Once he processed what she had said, Harry joined in. "Oh, how ridiculous," Hermione eventually gasped out, tears running down her face. "Here we are, plotting to overthrow two – nay, three – treasonous nobles and we are defeated by a simple garden gnome."

Harry shrugged, eyes still sparkling with amusement. "Well, maybe that gnome has saved us a whole load of plotting – we'll just set him on Petunia. Sorted."

That caused a fresh outbreak of laughter from Hermione. "Oh-oh, can you _imagine_ Petunia's face?" she laughed. "Although I think we'd need a few more gnomes to take down Vernon or Dudley."

"They'd probably have to hit them so hard they'd get permanent brain damage," Harry pointed out. "That's rather cruel; we may have to abandon this plan. Shame – I rather like the idea."

They sat there for a while, still grinning, before the cold water they were sat in finally got the better of them. "We should head back," Hermione said, squinting up at the sky through the trees to guess the hour. "I've had hardly enough time to do the Dursleys washing this week, let alone my own," she said, indicating her filthy, mud strewn clothes.

"Oh come on, Hermione, don't leave me just yet," Harry beseeched her. "Come on, let's just wash it off with a swim, it'll be fine. I just don't want to be stuck in that stupid Shack longer than I have to."

'_Bother his puppy dog eye look,_' Hermione thought, exasperated. She bet Sirius had taught it to him. "Fine, but only half an hour, Harry, I'm sorry."

"I'll take what I can get."

Lying on her back, staring at the clear blue sky, Hermione imagined all her stresses and worries rippling away through the deep waters, carried to someone else far away so she wouldn't have to carry their weight with her anymore.

Sadly, for her, this was nothing but a fantasy, an impossible dream. She wondered briefly what it was like to be a noble – to actually _be_ Countess Lily Ravenclaw. Then she wouldn't have to worry about anything, if she didn't want to. '_What a novelty it must be for the rich to not have to care,_' she thought, before angrily slapping that thought away. For it was that novelty that landed them in awful situations like hers and Harrys'; where no one cared what happened to them, so long as they played their part quietly in the background.

Hermione felt herself tensing up again and groaned. Couldn't she have just one whole minute where she didn't worry about anything? Apparently not.

Looking up once last time at the sun, Hermione drew in breath to call to Harry and then suddenly she was hit and the world was still blue, but the sun rippled distantly through the thick waters and she was falling, sinking, falling….

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

**Authors Notes:** I did find this chapter quite hard to write. It came to me in small spurts and sections and often, as in with the case of Neville and the whole river scene, went somewhere entirely unexpected. I hope you don't mind my little foray into Neville's background, it obviously wanted to make itself known as I certainly didn't plan to write it in there!

I am aware that Neville – and his grandmother – is rather OoC. I could think of no reason to kill off Frank and Alice, so I kept them alive and, as a result, Neville is going to be a very different character than the one in HP. Having grown up with his parents, he is a lot more confident in himself and his abilities. I imagine his father also would have told him a few horror stories of living with his gran!

As for Augusta, I've always perceived her as a rather stern lady, with a clear sense of what is proper. In the world this is set in that means upholding family honour, tradition and ensuring marriages. Although it might come off as cold, I think Neville and his Grandmother both enjoy their little sparring matches. It must be nice for Augusta to have someone stand up to her every once in a while – makes for a good challenge.

And on Ron's poor nose… well, we've never had a real explanation of what exactly the Bat Bogey hex _does_ so I've decided that having giant bogeys emerge from your nose is going to be more than a little bit painful! Feel free to disagree, but after just having jaw surgery when I had a little breathing tube shoved down my poor nostrils I imagine having something much bigger force its' way out there will be pretty painful indeed!

Additionally, I have NO idea what gnomes eat so I just went with worms. I know that was a little silly, but I felt like a bit of random silliness. Sorry!

Last note, I swear: I do apologise if some of the language is getting a bit old fashioned (for example, "I say!"). I'm currently on a bit of a nostalgic kick and re-reading a load of my Enid Blyton books. Generally I notice when I'm putting them in, but a few have made them through simply because I can't think of anything else to put. My mind is firmly in the realm of ginger beer, suppers and some jolly old adventures :p

Phew! What a long authors note. Sorry about that but I hope you find my notes on my thinking a bit interesting. :D

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	10. Chapter 9: Quidditch

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** - '_blah_' = thoughts

- Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**Chapter Nine: Quidditch**

Ron could hardly believe his luck!

There he had been, sitting with Neville on the river bank, watching slightly enviously as Ginny and Lady Luna had been gliding along on the surface river and brooding silently about his problems. Now that the initial euphoria of escaping France had worn off, he was beginning to get very worried about what he had to do.

You would have thought that being a Prince of the realm would make courting someone easy, nothing to worry about! And he was pretty sure, if he had bothered to ever ask anyone, that no lady would dream of refusing his attentions. The problem was that there had never been anyone he _wanted_ to court before and he was totally lost on how to go about it. Neville was almost as useless as him and as for asking his brothers… Ron shuddered.

Not that knowing how to court Countess Lily Ravenclaw was going to be any use at present. He still didn't have a clue who she was – his parents didn't recognise the name, nor Neville and Ginny. He had even, remembering her scathing comments, enquired with a servant if they knew who she was. They too had no clue.

'_Maybe she's a ghost,_' he had thought glumly. '_Maybe I had completely imagined her. Maybe all the pressure's got to me and I'm going mad._'

And then his prayers were answered!

"Aaaargh!"

Ron had leapt to his feet with a start, swearing as he just caught the last of Ginny's bright red hair disappearing under water. '_Bloody typical,_' he had thought, running and tearing off his shoes as he made to swim out to her. '_Here I am, enjoying my own misery when I have to go off and save my stupid little sister. Again!_'

Splashing behind him told him that Neville was hot on Ron's heels but Ron didn't stop to check. Launching himself into the water, he swam towards where his sister had disappeared only to come up short.

Ginny had already been rescued! Spluttering and trying to clear her eyes from the water, Ginny was being grasped firmly around the middle by a dark haired, green-eyed man who was treading water, trying to keep her steady whilst he checked her head visually for bumps.

Despite being grateful that Ginny had been saved, Ron was not going to let _anyone_ manhandle his little sister!

"Oi!" he yelled, resuming his strokes towards the pair. "Get your hands off – Lily!"

Ron stopped and stared at the lady who had just resurfaced before his head disappeared beneath the water line. Cursing himself for a fool and resuming his kicking, Ron shot back to the surface and stared again. It wasn't a mirage – there was Countess Lily Ravenclaw, long brown hair flowing round her freely in the water, looking at him with a strange expression on her face. Ron couldn't tell if it was happiness, relief, embarrassment or – was that fear?

"Your Highness!" she exclaimed, glancing over at where the strange man still struggled with Ginny. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing!" Ron retorted, before cursing inwardly. '_Come on, Ron, you're trying to court her not interrogate her. Gentlemanly – be chivalrous.'_

"Let me help you to shore, my Lady," he said quickly, before she could snap anything back at him.

She looked a little uncertain as he swam carefully towards her. "That really won't be necessary, your Highness."

"No, really, I insist," he said, taking her arm and pulling her gently back to the river bank. There he discovered that swimming whilst holding someone's arm was a lot more difficult than he it looked. He could tell within two strokes that he was very much in danger of either kicking Countess Lily or accidentally dislocating her shoulder. '_Be chivalrous… what a dipstick!_'

Difficulties aside, he had persevered and, luckily, the distance to waist height was very short and the Countess a very strong swimmer. As he helped her climb up the muddy embankment, he could hear splashing behind him and realised with a jolt that he had completely forgotten about his sister!

'_Idiot! Mum and Dad will _kill_ me if she's nabbed by someone whilst I make eyes at a lady._'

But, once more, luck was definitely in Ron's favour as when he turned around he saw his sister being helped out by that strange man again. Neville stood behind them, an amused look on his face. Ginny slipped then and the man's arm shot out to hold her waist. "Careful, Your Highness. It's very slippery right there."

Ron glared at him. Taking liberties with his sister. Again! But as he opened his mouth to once again try and order the man to leave his sister, Countess Lily spoke to him.

"I thank you, Your Highness," she said, curtsying to him in her sodden, slightly muddy dress.

"You're, erm, welcome," Ron replied, going a bit red as she gave him a timid smile. '_She really is quite beautiful,_' he thought wistfully. '_What deep brown eyes she has..._'

"Ahem. _Ronald_. Aren't you going to introduce us?"

Ron jumped as Ginny's voice brought him back to reality. He glared at her and she smiled sweetly back. "Of course," he grumbled. "Countess Lily Ravenclaw, this is Her Royal Highness, Princess Ginevra Weasley, and Lord Neville Longbottom." The three nobles all bowed and curtsied to each other, Lily trying not to go red as the other two stared at her curiously. Although both had observed her the day previously, they had not had a chance yet to properly converse with the young noble.

There was a small noise and the Countess jumped before going fully red. As she turned to the green-eyed stranger, Ron realised that the noise had been him clearing his throat. "Oh, I do beg your pardon," she said, nervously. "Your Highnesses, my Lord, this is, um, James Gryffindor, my, er, servant."

The three nobles stared at the servant in surprise as he, after a moment's hesitation, got down onto his knees as full obeisance to royalty. "Your Highnesses, my Lord," the servant intoned, but none of the others were listening. Instead they were staring at Countess Lily, who went fully red under their gazes but stared back defiantly.

"You go bathing with your _servant_?" Ron asked, incredulous.

Lily frowned at him. "I go swimming with my _friend_, Your Highness," she corrected.

Ron was even more incredulous now. "A servant as a friend?" he repeated. "You cannot be serious!"

"Why not?" she asked fiercely. "First and foremost, a servant is a _person,_ your Highness, not a thing."

"But – but they're commoners!" Ron repeated, still unable to grasp Lily's point. "They don't – they're not the _same_ as you and I."

There was a rather poignant pause there and Ron felt like shrivelling up when she looked at him, for her look was one of sadness and disappointment. Anger would have been much easier to deal with. "I wish I could think so little of my servants as you do yours," she said eventually, moving away from him. "Or need I remind you that James is the one that saved Princess Ginevra today? Come on, James," she said and the servant, who Ron was ashamed to realise had been prostrated on the muddy bank the whole time, got to his feet. As he turned around, he astonishingly caught Ron's eyes! That a commoner had the audacity to meet a noble's eyes… and furthermore he wore that same look of disappointment and pity on his face. Ron had never seen the like before!

As the strange Countess and her equally strange servant trudged up the river bank, Ginny stormed over to Ron and hit him round the head.

"Bloody hell, Ginny, what was that for?" he snapped, rubbing his head.

"For being a total idiot, Ron!" she retorted angrily. "Go and apologise!"

"But I didn't say anything wrong!" Ron protested, although he did feel a bit guilty. "Having a servant as a friend is just bloody _weird_!"

"I'm sorry, whose best friend growing up was Denny, the local pickpocket?"

"That was _different, _we weren't royalty then – this is now, Ginny!"

"Yes, this is _now_ and you need to find someone to marry you in three days' time or else you're condemned to the French!" she reminded him, glaring angrily. "Go. Get. Her. Back!"

Ron shot a desperate look over to Neville who just shrugged. "Fine!" he snapped. "Fine – lot of bloody good you are as an advisor, mate. Off I go to apologise to the mad woman who goes swimming with servants!"

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

"Why didn't you tell them I was Earl Potter, Hermione?" Harry whispered, as they scurried away from the royal party.

Hermione bit her lip. "I panicked a little bit," she admitted, lifting her soaking skirts as she stepped over a large root. "I mean, we don't know what we're going to do about you yet. If we tell them then it's bound to get about Court and the Dursleys will hear it through the gossip that filters down through the town. Then Petunia will realise that you've escaped somehow and will race to eliminate you by any means necessary before you can incriminate them. Or the royals would try and call on us at Godric's Hollow and you wouldn't be there, just the awful Dursleys, and then they – Prince Ronald – would think you'd lied – _I'd_ lied – and then we'd both by thrown in jail, or executed or something just awful and it wasn't worth the risk!"

Harry stared at her as she took a great gulp of air. "I think panicked a 'little bit' might be a bit of an understatement."

Hermione grinned quickly before a sudden thought flashed across her mind. "What is it?" Harry asked anxiously, obviously catching something in her expression.

"Oh, don't worry, nothing really serious it's just…" she sighed unhappily. "Prince Ronald was being a pig-headed stubborn idiot back then. I don't think he'd be any use for your crusade against the ill-treatment of servants." She had thought there was hope for the Prince, but it was going to take a lot of hard work to get him to see their point of view. He just didn't even try to listen!

"Yeah, I thought that, too," Harry admitted. "But it's weird, isn't it, that if my parents had lived I would have more or less grown up with the two of them – Prince Ronald and Lord Longbottom. Maybe if I _had_ then they would have felt differently about servants – I would have had time to work on them, like my Dad on Sirius."

"Or you would have turned into a stuck up, arrogant git like Malfoy!" Hermione teased and they both laughed. Hermione couldn't even imagine Harry being anyone but Harry. She had the feeling that, even if he _had_ had all the luxuries and fortune that he should have been entitled to, he still would have turned out exactly the same.

"Er, Countess Ravenclaw?"

Both Harry and Hermione jumped and turned round. Hermione just about managed to register the shock on Harry's face before he disappeared from view, flinging himself to the ground. She heard his mumbled, "Your Highness", but was too busy staring in shock at the slightly red faced Prince.

'_What in Merlin's name is he doing here?'_ she thought uneasily, even as she greeted him.

"Countess," the Prince repeated, before pausing. He shifted about on his squelching shoes uneasily. "Countess, I have come to, erm, apologise and request that you join me – and my friends, of course – back at the river."

Hermione stared at him in complete shock once more, before trying to school her face into a blank expression. '_An apology, yes, but more about how he spoke to me than about what he was saying.'_ Still, it was a start, but it did make her wonder again why he had come racing after her and Harry. '_After all, he's still ignoring poor Harry with his face in the mud. So why is he… oh. Oh dear._'

"Oh. Oh. Well, I thank you, Your Highness, but I do feel that I should be going," Hermione said, annoyed at how flustered her voice sounded and how she could feel her cheeks burning a red to rival the Prince's hair. By her feet Harry twitched slightly and she tried to refrain from kicking him. No doubt the same thought had occurred to him and he was trying very hard not to laugh.

"You're angry with me," Ronald said, suddenly.

"No, Sire."

"Of course you are," the Prince objected, gloomy again, "and quite rightly, too. I've been horribly… well, just horrible to you." There was a pause when neither Hermione nor Ronald seemed to know what to say. Then suddenly the Prince burst out, "It's just I don't _understand_ you. You don't make any sense!"

"Oh?" '_That came out of nowhere!_' she thought.

"Well you're a noble Lady, a Countess of the Court… but you talk about making friends with servants and equality. The two just… well, they don't go together."

"Well, Your Highness, you and your family technically own all the land there is, yet you take no pride in working it," Hermione retorted. "That, to me, makes even less sense."

Ronald snorted. "So yesterday I was arrogant but today I have no pride at all," he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Who's not making sense now?"

Hermione was getting angry now. "You have everything – _the whole Kingdom_ – and you still seem to be miserable and find fault with everything in it!" she snapped. "Don't mock those who actually take some joy in the world around them and the possibilities it holds."

There was another poignant pause and Hermione felt herself filled with horror as her brain caught up to what her mouth and temper had said. To have spoken to a Prince like that… Hermione tried not to fling herself on the ground like Harry. If she had not been masquerading under the guise of Countess Lily then she would have been thrown straight onto a ship bound to the Americas. Then again, she reminded herself, if she had not been playing Countess Lily Ravenclaw then she would never have been in a position to speak to Prince Ronald thus.

"How do you do it?" Prince Ronald asked, eventually.

Hermione looked at him nervously. "Do what?"

He shook his head. "No, no – live each day with this kind of… passion? Don't you find it, well, _exhausting_?"

Hermione immediately felt relief and even managed a sad smile. He wasn't angry with her! "Only when I'm around you, Your Highness," she replied honestly.

Ronald went red again, clearly couldn't find a response to that, and hurriedly changed the subject. "So would you join us, Countess? My sister would love to speak to you."

Hermione looked at him, considering. She did sorely want to meet the Princess, although she would have to be careful Ginevra didn't recognise her. Then again, this masquerade had already gone on far too long and it was getting more and more dangerous. Could she really risk it for a conversation?

Movement by her feet caused her to glance down at Harry. He was nodding his head, just oh so slightly. He obviously thought it was a good idea – he would get a better idea of what this group of young, but important, nobles were like. She didn't want them ignoring him, however. And then the solution presented itself and she smiled at Ronald.

"On one condition, Your Highness," she said.

"Of course, whatever you want."

"You have that conversation with a peasant."

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

If Harry was being honest, he would say that he had had a very _informative_ but utterly frustrating afternoon. Whilst it was a thrill to get this close to his future peers that excitement quickly dissipated when he realised that he was completely ignored.

Although being invisible wasn't exactly a new feeling to Harry, it was much harder to take amongst these nobles than it was from his repulsive aunt and uncle. In fact, coming from the horror he had suffered the day before, it was all he could do to refrain from screaming and raging aloud.

However Hermione had been right – screaming and ranting would get him nowhere except back in jail. The need to start a revolution from within the noble ranks was never more apparent than now. The Prince, Princess and Lord Longbottom all seemed like decent people. He could tell at a glance that they were nothing like the Dursleys, Malfoys or Blacks which was a great relief. But, just as Hermione had said, none had ever had to look beyond their own world or consider something different before. That Harry – or James – was a person who might have an opinion on a certain subject just didn't occur to them.

So instead, as Ginevra quizzed an awkward Hermione on where she had been educated and what her life had been like, and as Ronald tried and failed to find a way into the conversation whilst Longbottom looked on amused, Harry studied his peers.

Being the subject of much teasing the night before, Harry studied Ronald as closely as he dared. He could see the evidence of the gloom and doom attitude Hermione had accused him of in his face; as Ginevra continued to ignore him his face dropped into a sulky, angry expression that it seemed rather comfortable with. But there was laughter in there, somewhere hidden under his lightly tanned skin and mass of freckles. He was fairly well built, but Harry suspected that he was someone who didn't do much harder work than riding a horse every now and then or using his wand. He wasn't the sort to go looking for harder work if he didn't need to.

Harry next moved onto the Princess. She had, of course, the same vibrant red hair as her brother but that was about where the likeness ended. Her skin was much paler and almost blemish free from being kept out of the sun, bar a small smattering of defiant freckles across her nose. Her eyes were brown, but unlike Hermione's calm orbs, Princess Ginevra's had something much wilder and freer about them.

He liked the look of her immensely. She looked like someone who would go her own way and would have no patience against anyone who annoyed her. He almost laughed aloud when he thought of Petunia's aspirations of marrying blundering Dudley off to this firecracker of a Princess. He would pay good money to see that encounter!

Lord Longbottom was a bit harder for Harry to get a handle on, however. He was much quieter than the other two for starters, seemingly content to watch on with amusement as the two siblings fought each other for Hermione's attention. But there was a sort of quiet strength about him that impressed Harry. Compared to Ronald he was very well muscled and Harry wondered whether he practiced sword work in his spare time. Certainly it looked as though Longbottom was not afraid of hard work which certainly boded well for Harry.

"Hang on!" Ginevra's cry brought Harry out of his thoughts. The Princess was looking around them, worried. "Where's Lady Luna? She can't possibly still be skating!"

"Skating?" Harry heard Hermione ask as the others started and began calling out for her.

"It's a spell, quite brilliant actually," Ginevra explained, peering along the river bank. "Let's you skate along the river as though it were frozen. That's, er, how I tripped over you," she added, looking apologetically at the older girl.

Hermione, however, didn't notice. "What a fascinating spell!" she said instead, looking enthralled. "I've never heard of it! What book did you find it in?"

"One of Lady Luna's inventions, apparently," Ginevra said.

"Really?" squealed Hermione. Ginevra nodded, surprised, but Harry had to bite back a shout of laughter. Hermione's thirst for knowledge even outweighed her nervousness around nobility. "She must be a genius!"

"That's very kind of you."

Everyone jumped and turned around. Harry tried not to stare, but honestly, how was he _not_ expected to stare at someone who appeared to be draped in so many different types of greenery that she resembled a small tree?

"Oh, Lady Luna!" Ginevra said, relieved, and Harry could tell that she liked this strange girl. "We were worried – where did you go?"

"Adding to my dress," was all the mysterious new noble would say and the others didn't seem to need to question her much more than that. Instead Lady Luna looked at Harry and Hermione carefully. "You two are beautifully see through," she told them solemnly. "So much sunlight, it's really rather wonderful."

"Oh. Er, thank you?" Hermione asked, looking at the other's for help. They looked quite as confused as Harry and Hermione felt, although Ginevra was looking at them shrewdly.

There was a slightly awkward pause before Ronald, obviously having just been elbowed by Ginevra, stumbled forward to introduce them.

"Lady Luna Lovegood, this is Countess Lily Ravenclaw," he intoned, embarrassed, "and" – after a slight glare from Hermione – "her, er, servant, James Gryffindor." Ronald rather looked as though he couldn't believe he had just said that, but Harry ignored him, dropping to his knee before the strange lady.

As he rose, he found Lady Luna looking not at Hermione, but just at him this time, a peculiar expression in her grey eyes. "A lightning bearer," she proclaimed mysteriously, before drifting over to pick even more flowers from the bushes and adding them to her outfit.

Harry watched her, confused. What on earth was a 'lightning bearer'? He wasn't quite sure what to make of this strange new noble that had been added to their group. He had managed to get an impression of all the others almost immediately but Lady Luna… he couldn't decide if she was mad, pretending to be mad whilst really being quite sane, or if she was mad and sane together.

"Sorry about that," Prince Ronald said, eventually. "She's a little… strange."

"So, Countess Ravenclaw," Ginevra said, trying to break the lingering awkwardness, "I must congratulate you. I don't think I've ever seen anyone outside the family manage to wind my youngest brother up so completely."

Hermione and Ronald both went bright red for very different reasons. Ginevra waved off Hermione's apology saying, "Don't be silly – he needs someone to shut him up every now and then." She rolled her eyes. "He's such a prat, sometimes."

Ronald scowled at his sister. "Shu – " he started to say, before glancing at Hermione worriedly. "Please ignore, Ginny, Countess," he said instead. "She isn't exactly known for her refinement and ladylikeness."

Ginevra laughed. "No, I suppose I'm not," she said agreeably. "But I've got a brain, more so than _you_ Ronald, so I don't see why I shouldn't get to use it every once in a while."

Lord Longbottom – and Hermione, after a moment's hesitation – laughed, whilst Harry fought his own laughter. He had been right about her, at least – a real firecracker!

"You don't like the refineries of Court, Your Highness?" Hermione asked.

Ginevra sighed. "I suppose I wouldn't mind it, Countess, but my peers seem perfectly content to sit and gossip and embroider and contrive to get themselves married off to the most eligible suitor possible as soon as they can." She scowled. "I can think of a hundred better, more useful things to do with my time."

"Like sneaking off to play Quidditch?" Ron mocked.

Ginevra went bright red, but Harry found his interest piqued immensely. He loved Quidditch, or at least the mockery of the sport he played with his little family. Part of his joy came from just having fun with the ones he loved. So often any time they spent together was with the fear of the Dursleys hanging over them. The other part – greater part, he acknowledged, guiltily – came from the absolute freedom he felt at soaring above the ground. Sirius and Remus had called him a natural on the broom and that was how Harry felt when he was whirling, diving and swooping in the air: that that was where he belonged.

"You play Quidditch, Your Highness?" Hermione enquired, just as surprised as Harry had been. Hermione herself played of course but never let herself go like Harry did. Instead, she played because it made the others happy. To find Princess Ginevra enjoyed it was surprising; Harry did not think noble females were allowed to play it.

Turned out he was right. "Yes," Ginevra said at the same time as Ronald said, "No."

Whilst both siblings glared at each, Longbottom explained to Hermione, "Technically Princess Ginny has been forbidden to play, but she _can_ play – and very well, too."

Ginevra beamed at him, whilst Ronald glared. "She's okay," he protested, sulkily.

"I'm better than _you_, Ronald," she snapped, rounding on him. "You miss one little quaffle and your game goes to pieces."

"You're a chaser?" Hermione asked, trying to keep another argument from brewing between the two.

"Keeper actually," Ronald said, looking pleased with the attention. "Do you know Quidditch, Countess?"

"Yes, Your Highness. I, er, play a little myself, actually."

"_Do_ you?" Ginevra sounded delighted. "That's brilliant! What position?"

"Oh, er, well Chaser I guess. Whenever we play it's usually in much smaller sides," she explained, hurriedly adding, "It's hard to get enough people together for a full game where I live."

"Well, this is brilliant!" Ginevra repeated, elated to find another lady that enjoyed her beloved game. She was grinning from ear to ear. "Why don't we have a little game now?" she said, rushing on too excitedly to hear any protests from the suddenly horrified Hermione. "Lady Luna!" she yelled, dashing across to the flower bestrewn girl. "Would you like to join us in a game of Quidditch?"

To everyone's shock, Luna cocked her head and said "I like flying" which was clearly a 'yes'.

"No, really, you don't have to – "

"Ron, send a message back to the palace – we need brooms and balls."

"Why don't _you_ do it?"

"Because, idiot, if _I_ sent it then Mum would step in somehow and refuse."

"Fine, fine."

"Please, Princess Ginevra, I don't wish to cause any bother!"

"It's no bother at all, Countess, really."

"Erm, Ginny…"

Ginevra looked at Longbottom, confused. "What, Neville?"

"I don't know if you've noticed," the young Lord said, "but we have an odd number. It wouldn't be a good idea to play with uneven teams."

As Ginevra cursed angrily, Harry saw an opening. He nudged Hermione carefully in the back and, turning her head towards him, he whispered, "Tell them I'll play."

"What?" Hermione said, before hurriedly lowering her voice. "What?"

"Tell them I'll play," Harry repeated, eyes on the annoyed Princess. "It's a way in, Hermione – a way for them to look at a servant as more than a thing."

Hermione frowned worriedly. "I don't know, Harry," she whispered back. "This is already getting out of hand as it is. And I don't _want_ to play Quidditch and make a fool of myself in front of the Prince!"

Harry raised his eyes as Hermione turned bright red. "Forget I said that!" she hissed hurriedly. "Oh, alright, although I can think of a hundred ways this could go wrong."

"As long as it opens their eyes, it'll be worth it." Harry failed to mention that selfish part of him again, the one that just wanted to soar in the skies. Besides, it looked as though both Royals would be good competition. That was something he hadn't had in a _long_ time.

"Your Highness," Hermione called out, trying to look calm. "I believe I have a solution to your problem."

"Really?" Ginevra's face popped up in anticipation.

"James can play."

It saddened Harry how long it took for confusion to dawn into realisation at who Hermione meant. But when the meaning triggered, both Longbottom and Ginevra looked at him in incredulity.

"Your servant is a wizard?" Longbottom asked, surprised.

"Yes, my Lord, I am," Harry said defiantly before Hermione could answer for him.

They almost jumped to hear him speak. "Oh," they both said. "What position do you play?" asked Ginevra, somewhat untrustingly, as though Harry didn't know anything about the game.

Harry bowed, trying not to let his irritation show. "Seeker, Your Highness."

Ginevra's eyebrows rose. "Same as me," she commented, almost to herself. She paused for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts. "You are the strangest noble I have ever met, Countess," she said eventually. "And that group includes Lady Lovegood. Alright," she decided, "we'll play as two teams of six. Myself, Neville and Lady Luna against yourself, Countess, Ron and, er, Gryffindor. Two chasers, one seeker for each side and we'll have one free bludger. Does that sound good?"

"Erm, yes, just fine," Hermione agreed although she looked clearly uncomfortable. As they headed off to a large field nearby for the game, Hermione turned and hissed at him, "I'm going to _kill_ you, Harry!"

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Ginny hovered on her broomstick, quickly settling into the strange broom thanks to her short recap on flying day before. '_Bloody hell, was that just yesterday?'_ she thought to herself, amazed. The battle in the woods seemed years ago – so much had happened since then! '_Whoa, wait, don't think about all that, Ginny,_' she told herself sternly. '_Flying is for being _free_, not worrying._' Besides, she had the feeling that if she really stopped to think about everything that had happened to her and what she had left to do then she would start crying. Again. Instead she decided to focus on the game ahead.

She eyed the opposite team carefully. Ronald, of course, looked confident on his broom as he glided next to the rather more nervous looking Countess. He would be difficult to get around, of course, but thankfully she knew his weak areas and limitations very well from years of sulky observance. Due to her ban however his knowledge of her was _very_ limited.

The Countess flew well and surprisingly confidently, although it was clear that she didn't enjoy flying that much. Ginny found that last fact even more surprising – if she disliked flying so much why was it clear that she had had a lot of practice? Very curious, but the more Ginny got to know the Countess, the more mysterious and bizarre she seemed. She was very well versed in some matters, most especially witchcraft. Ginny, Neville and Ron had all gone to schools considered to be the best in Europe yet Lily's knowledge seemed to outstrip them all. As well as knowing all of the defensive spells the boys did, she also knew handy little practical charms, such as the one she used to dry all their soaking clothes in an instant, which would never have been taught by Durmstrang and Beauxbatons.

She was also rather closed about her past. Ginny gathered from the little she would say that her parents had died when she was eleven and that she had decided to come to Court shortly after coming of age and being able to claim the family title.

'_So we have secretive about her past,_' Ginny thought, daring to attempt a couple of dives as she thought about her newest friend. '_And then fantastic magical knowledge although she must have been home schooled. And, of course, strangest of all, the way she treats her servant!_'

Ginny shot a quick glance over to the servant – Gryffindor. She had been very surprised to learn that, not only was he a trained wizard but that he also knew how to play Quidditch. She didn't think servants had much time for playing games and she doubted even fewer could afford a magical broomstick and then actually find enough people to play even the simplified version of Quidditch they were playing now.

Ginny watched him now, the last member of the opposing team. He was the only player that had yet to take to the sky yet, looking carefully at his broomstick. Ginny smirked. She was pretty sure that he was terrified and dismissed him from her thoughts. She didn't think she'd have to worry about him.

No, her main problem, Ginny decided, was on how exactly to thoroughly trounce her brother without offending or hurting the Countess. Ron would not thank her if she caused Lily to break her head open on the ground. Come to think of it, Ginny didn't want to either. Mysterious or not, Lily seemed to have more life and vigour in her then all the rest of the Court ladies put together.

'_Well, almost all,_' Ginny amended with a grin as Lady Luna flew past her, dreamily weaving figure eights with her broomstick as she sat side-saddle. "Isn't that a little bit dangerous, Lady Luna?" Ginny called, but Luna ignored her, now performing the loop the loop that Ginny herself had been too nervous to try, and her clasping the broom with both legs!

Neville flew over to her, grinning. "Plotting how best to take out your brother, my Lady?" he teased.

Ginny swatted at him. "Of course, my Lord," she said, smirking. Neville, whilst he was a good, steady flier and confident in the air was not given to the certain aerial acrobatics needed to be an excellent Quidditch player. '_In fact,_' Ginny thought, '_this match is very even; two dismissibles, two steady fliers and two really good fliers._'

In other words, it was a fight between her and her brother.

The best kind.

A rather bemused looking Auror walked out onto the pitch, carrying the ball chest with him. Ginny wasn't sure of his name, mainly because she only paid interest to aurors she found interesting and not idiotic.

As she manoeuvred herself into position for the start, Ginny was surprised to see Gryffindor already in position, looking very comfortable on his broom. '_So he knows how to fly,_' she thought to herself. '_Doesn't mean he can play at Seeker._'

And then a whistle… the snitch flew past Ginny's nose and she restrained the urge to grab it… and then the Quaffle was up!

3-sided Quidditch, she rapidly discovered, was a lot more involving than the standard game. Usually Ginevra would circle the pitch, dodging the odd bludger, mainly searching everywhere for the little glimmer of gold she wanted. She had very little to do with the main game, almost playing a battle of wits with the opposing seeker.

Immediately she saw that this was not going to work. Whilst Neville had managed to grab the Quaffle straight away from the hand-off, whenever he passed it Luna she simply bounced it back to him using the tail of her broom as a bat. Neville was so surprised that first time that he almost got knocked off his broom!

'_Bloody Merlin!'_ Ginny thought, as Ron swopped in and intercepted Luna's next rebound gleefully. Even worse was that when he passed it to Countess Lily she caught the Quaffle easily and shot off towards the hastily erected goal posts.

'_Bugger,_' Ginny thought feelingly, when Lily's throw passed perfectly through the centre ring. '_This is going to be harder than I thought._'

It was time, she decided, for a change in formation. "Luna, get back and guard those goal posts," she called, banking down to the main playing level. "You're going to be Keeper, but keep an eye out for the snitch."

"I like snidgets," Luna said dreamily. "They cuddle me on Uncle's cloak."

Ginny stared at her before realising what she meant. "No, not a snidget," she corrected, exasperated. "A snitc – oh, never mind! Neville," she continued, "you and I are going to have to play chasers."

As her newly reformed team flew back to the centre Ron yelled, "Oi, that's cheating!"

"What's the matter, Ron – afraid of losing?"

The look he sent her was pure filth.

But the game had restarted and this time it was Neville and Ginny who were in command, swooping in between the other two players easily. Ron tried his best to intercept them but he was a Keeper at heart, not a chaser. Countess Lily was also struggling, not as comfortable with the movements needed as Ron.

Ginny snatched the Quaffle out of the air once more and was racing towards the goal. It was in sight, Lily was struggling to keep up and Neville had managed to block Ron. The goal was hers for the taking… she heaved her arm back, threw the Quaffle… and then a blur of blue snatched it almost from right in front of her nose.

"What the – "

Ginny looked around and found her jaw dropping. That blue blur had been Gryffindor – _Gryffindor,_ the servant boy, who she thought would be more likely to fall off his broom than contribute to the game. Now he was shooting his way back up the pitch, effortlessly dodging both the bludger and Neville, heading towards Luna and the goal post…

'_Come on, Luna, save it,_' Ginny thought desperately, but it was hopeless. Gryffindor feinted perfectly to the left before rolling over and shooting the Quaffle through the right hand ring. Countess Lily gave out a laugh.

20-0 to them.

'_Where the bloody Merlin did _that_ come from,_' Ginny thought, almost in awe, as Gryffindor flew past her. She wasn't the only one taken aback – both Ron and Neville looked slightly dazed. Countess Lily, however, beamed proudly at her servant.

'_This is going to be a lot harder than I thought._'

Twenty minutes later and Ginny was thoroughly frustrated. It had been the toughest Quidditch match of her life and there were only six players! Yet Gryffindor was quite honestly the most amazing flier she had ever seen. It was hard to believe he was on exactly the same type of broom as the rest of the players – he seemed to be zooming about the pitch twice as fast as everyone else. Only Countess Lily seemed unfazed but her face did look rather smug whenever Ginny glanced her way.

Still, Gryffindor couldn't be everywhere and they had managed to squeeze a few goals past Ron (who was now acting as Keeper) and equally Luna had managed to bat a few away with her broom, leaving the scores at 90-60 in Gryffindor's favour. In Ginny's mind the game had boiled down to just the two of them now – nearly everyone else had faded away into the background. She had never had to work so hard at a Quidditch match in her life before! And, beneath the exasperation, frustration and desperation, she rather found she enjoyed it.

'_Wait – what's that?_'

A glimmer of gold – the snitch! If she could catch it, the game would be won. At once she felt her spirits soar. She shot off towards the snitch, glancing at Gryffindor to see if he had seen it, too. He had! Either that or he had realised what Ginny was doing. She squinted between him and the snitch, trying to figure out the distances. Was he closer? No! They were about the same distance.

Ginny gritted her teeth and bent down lower on her handle, trying to coax the tiniest bit of extra speed she could. "Come on, broom, come on!" she muttered. She stretched out her hand. She was almost there… almost!

"Bugger!"

The snitch suddenly shot upwards before she or Gryffindor could grab hold of it and both of them followed suit, virtually locking their legs together they were so close. Ginny tried not to look at him – she couldn't lose sight of her prize! – but it was hard, her being so close. The snitch, as though sensing its pursuers, had curved back down, causing both riders to curve backwards into the steepest dive Ginny had ever been in her whole Quidditch career. Her mind was shrieking at her to pull out, pull out, but she was stubbornly refusing. She _was_ going to win this one.

They were getting closer and closer to the ground. Now Ginny was starting to pay attention to her head… if she couldn't pull up… But luckily the snitch once again changed direction, curving sideways and spiralling across the pitch. Now she caught glimpses of Gryffindor as they spiralled into the snitch. She expected him to be looking determined, all thoughts concentrated on the pursuit like she was, but instead he was grinning. And laughing!

He seemed to catch her eye as they were speeding along and a curious expression crossed his face. '_He's going to let me win,_' Ginny thought, suddenly. '_He's a commoner, I'm Royalty, he's going to let me win it!_' She scowled angrily. She wanted to win, but she was going to do it on her own terms, not his!

She threw all attention back to the chase and realised, with delight, that the snitch was curving slightly towards her. She could almost touch it – she was going to win!

And then suddenly something dark seemed to roll right over her. She shrieked and instinctively tried to hit out whatever it was but when she reopened her eyes, nothing was there. And more to the point, she realised, pulling up her broomstick angrily, the snitch had disappeared, too.

Turning around, she went to yell to the others that she had lost the snitch, only to see Gryffindor sitting casually on his broomstick, grinning like a mad thing, and clutching the snitch firmly in his left hand.

"You – you – how did you _do_ that?" Ginny stuttered, shocked and angry. A suspicion formed. "Did you use a spell to distract me?" she asked.

He looked very affronted at this. "Of course not, Your Highness," he said. "I barrel rolled over the top of you and snatched the snitch out from in front of you."

"Oh. _Oh_!" Ginny stared at Gryffindor in amazement. So that dark shadow had been him rolling over the top of her. She felt awe once again at his flying skills. Barrel rolls were tricky to start off with, but not too bad once you knew to hold on. Barrel rolling over someone else was a lot trickier and had to be carefully executed so as to not knock out both fliers. Barrel rolling over someone completely unaware, at top speed, whilst reaching out _upside down_ to grab something as tiny as the snitch… that was incredible.

'_I should tell him that,_'she thought suddenly, realising that he was still sitting there, waiting for her to say something. _'After all, it's true – and I don't want to be a sore loser.' _So she opened her mouth, fully intending on congratulating him on his fantastic flying. What she actually said was, "You didn't let me win!"

He looked at her, surprised, before amusement filled his face. He didn't look a thing like the cowed servant he should be. "Was I supposed to, Your Highness?" he asked.

Ginny went a bit red. "Well, no, but… I thought you would just cause… well, I'm a Princess," she blurted out, before slapping a hand over her mouth, mortified. What an awful, whingey, girly thing to say.

Gryffindor grinned at that. "Well, I'm a poor, lowly peasant, Your Highness. Surely you should be the one letting _me_ win? After all, I have nothing else to my name. Where is your chivalry?"

Ginny couldn't help but stare at him. First he didn't let her win and now he was teasing her about it! '_The Countess Ravenclaw really is so strange!_' "I could ask you where yours is!" she managed to retort, eventually, surprised at her light, mocking tone. "Beating a girl, 'tis most dishonourable."

"Ah, but where is the honour in cheating, Your Highness," Gryffindor responded. "And if I had let you win that would be dishonest and unfair to both you and myself." Whilst Ginny pondered this, he added with a bow, "But I must thank you, Your Highness. It was the most fun I've had playing Quidditch in a long time. It's nice to face a challenge."

And with that he bowed once more and then angled his broom back down towards the ground. Ginny watched him go, feeling surprised all over again. A challenge – yes, that's what the game had been. She, like him, had often found it hard to be challenged by the Quidditch games she _had_ played in the past. She now wondered belatedly if what she'd accused him of omitting had been the reason behind past easy wins. Had her opponents been letting her win due to her status?

"Oi! Going to stay up and there and sulk the rest of the evening?"

Ginny scowled down at her brother, who was smirking up at her from the ground. "I am NOT sulking!" she yelled down at him but winced when that came out sounding even more sulky. '_Bugger,_' she thought and made her way down to the ground, trying not to look as sulky as she suddenly felt. '_Bother Ron!'_

Judging by his grin, it hadn't worked. "Come on, Gin, let's face it – at the end of the day, our team was just better than yours," he teased, laughing as she glared at him.

"Only because you had Gryffindor," Ginny snapped back and was surprised when Ron dropped his superior attitude.

"Yeah," he admitted, looking over to where the servant was hovering by the Countess once more. "Bloody hell, I've never seen such an amazing flier. Shame he's just a servant."

Ginny looked at him shrewdly. She hadn't thought about it, but Ron was right. Today's match had been a complete one-off. Gryffindor's extraordinary flying skills were a complete and total waste for he would never be able to use them. She wondered how many other witches and wizards were out there that could fly like that but never got the chance to even try.

A loud bell tolled somewhere nearby and made them all jump. Neville looked around and laughed. "We chose our pitch right next to the church," he said, pointing at it. "No wonder it's so loud."

"Merlin, is that the time!" Countess Lily yelped suddenly, squinting at the sun in alarm as the bell finished tolling 3 o'clock. She looked alarmed. "I'm so sorry, Your Highnesses, Lord Longbottom, Lady Lovegood – we really need to be going." She curtsied rather hurriedly at them all before almost running away, she moved so fast. Gryffindor, of course, was trotting at her heels.

"Wait!" Ron called, moving towards them, utterly surprised. "Where are you going?"

"Prior engagement!" was all they could hear of Lily's reply as she disappeared into the trees.

"Wait – " Ron started again but gave up – they were too far away to hear him. "Bugger. And I _still_ don't know where she's staying," he moaned. "This is hopeless!"

"I wouldn't worry too much, mate," Neville said, patting the dismal Prince on the back. "You thought you'd never find her again yesterday and then she popped up almost on top of you today."

"Besides, I think she does like you," Ginny added, squinting where the Countess had vanished into the treeline. "Although she does keep disappearing on you, too."

"Really? You think she likes me?" Ron asked, hopefully. "She does seem to spend most conversations we have arguing with me."

"True," Ginny shrugged, "but I kind of think she likes arguing with you."

"Really?" Ron repeated.

"Yes, Ron, really," Ginny snapped. She was feeling a little jealous, truth be told. Maybe it was early days, but Ron had found his Princess. Where the hell was her Prince?

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

**Authors Notes:**

This was one of the hardest chapters I have ever written. Some parts, especially the Quidditch match, came easily, but most of the dialogue between the nobles at the riverside was very difficult. I think it still a very awkward scene and I can only apologise for it. I rewrote it, from various points of view, several times and this version has been my favourite. I think the main problem is that the characterisation has been lost somewhere or is complicated by the interaction of two very different groups of people. So, again, I am SO SORRY for that scene.

Ron's apology scene, however, I do quite like. Fans of the film will recognise that the essence of their argument does come from the film, but I have changed the language, both to make it more modern and also more Ron and Hermione-y.

A Quidditch game might seem a bit random, but, as Harry briefly explains, it makes everyone on a level playing field. Harry naturally excels at flying so it would give them all a good chance to recognise that Harry – a servant – has more to him than just the ability to do laundry and follow orders.

Also I know that 'bathing with your servant' could have a very different implication but I'm trying to look past that. Keep it nice and innocent, people :D

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	11. Chapter 10: Earl

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** - '_blah_' = thoughts

- Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**Chapter Ten: Earl**

Godric's Hollow was in uproar.

Sirius couldn't quite believe it. The signs had all been there but he still hadn't thought it possible that even _they_ could be so foolish. But the clothes were on, the carriage freshly polished by himself that very morning and the horses were ready to go.

The Dursleys were going to Court.

Or rather two of them were. Vernon, his moustache bristling with what Sirius supposed was pride, was stood outside the manor, waiting for his wife and son to depart for the Palace. Sirius didn't know why Vernon had elected not to go to Court although he guessed that maybe they only had enough money to cover Dudley's bulk. Whilst not as large as his son, Vernon could definitely be described as beefy.

"Wotcher, Sirius."

Sirius looked over and gave Tonks a worried look. The younger witch looked absolutely exhausted and he couldn't blame her. Her latest mission for the Dursleys had taken near up to Scotland and she had only gotten back just before midnight the night before. Then, of course, he, Remus and Hermione had had the task of telling her what had happened to the residents of Godric's Hollow in her absence.

Talking keeping them all up till near dawn, it was a wonder any of them had managed to wake at all that morning. Then, of course, they were informed that Petunia and Dudley were going to Court. Today.

He supposed in hindsight he should have guessed something was up yesterday. He almost groaned as he remembered laughing off Remus' concerns. But it had seemed so preposterous. It was just a fact of life at Godric's Hollow: the Dursleys never went to Court. Even Arabella, when she managed to escape down into the kitchen for a tea and catch up, had thought nothing would come of it.

"_Sirius!"_

_Sirius looked up and smiled as he saw Arabella peering down at him from the doorway. "Hello, Arabella," he called, moving up the steps to take her arm. "Here, let me."_

_Supporting her as best he could he helped her down the steep steps. She hadn't been a young woman when Harry had been born and now he was almost of age her old years were certainly weighing on her. But she reached the bottom quite quickly with Sirius' house and looked around, sadly._

"_It looks so… lonely," she said eventually._

_Sirius tried to remember the last time Arabella had been in the manor kitchen and realised with a start that she hadn't been back since Petunia had dismissed her, more than four years ago. '_What a different house it was, even back then,_' Sirius thought, forlornly. Although smaller than James had kept, the staff was still a lot bigger back than today and the kitchen would have been a hive of activity. There was still a fairly hopeful atmosphere in the air, despite having lived under the thumb of Vernon and Petunia for twelve years already. '_What a dreary place it is now,'_ Sirius thought, thinking of all the empty, half-furnished rooms and the slightly bedraggled look of the manor as it suffered under a lack of staff._

"_Yes," he said quietly, in response to Arabella's comment. "Yes, it does. But it won't be forever."_

"_No," Arabella agreed, eyes glinting fiercely. "No, it won't. Remus told me it all went well, by the way."_

"_Perfectly, as far as I can see," Sirius agreed, grinning again. He put a kettle on the fire to boil for tea. "I think Hermione even gave our Prince a good telling off, although she wouldn't say as much."_

_Arabella laughed. "I knew she had fire in her. Knew it since the first day I met her. I bet the poor Prince didn't know what had hit him!"_

_Sirius laughed as well, shooting a spell at the kettle to speed it along. He was immensely proud of the little witch. He had known she had 'fire' in her, too, and he was glad that it wasn't wasted. He worried about her and Harry the most of everyone. They were the most amazing people he had ever met; brilliant, intelligent and passionate about what was right in the world. They were both completely wasted as servants and Sirius secretly hoped that when Harry got the chance to break out he would drag Hermione with him. That girl deserved a moment in the sun._

"_Well, I believe her beautiful outfit helped give her that boost of confidence she needed," Sirius said, grabbing the cloth bag from under the kitchen table. "I'm sorry it's a bit rumpled," he apologised, "we couldn't risk it being seen."_

_Arabella shook him off. "That's fine," she dismissed. "One of the cleaners owes me a favour."_

"_Speaking of dresses… what's going on up there?" Sirius asked, curiosity getting the better of him. Although Remus had told him he hadn't quite believed it and now poor Remus was stuck up there, serving refreshments._

_Arabella made a tutting sound as Sirius poured out the suddenly boiling water into the tea pot. "It's a right bloody circus," she told him. "I've never seen such a palaver! It's hard enough to get Master Dudley to stand still long enough to pin any clothes on him and then her is always fussing about the style. Merlin forbid we should accidentally prick the boy – Madam Malkin has already had to send one of her assistants home, crying, because Dudley stepped back into her pin, stupid child."_

"_I wonder she doesn't leave," said Sirius. Madam Malkin had always seemed so stern and no-nonsense whenever he'd had to cross paths with her._

_Arabella snorted. "I reckon she would if her wasn't paying her so much." Arabella always referred to Petunia as 'her'. It made for confusing conversation, but the older lady had never forgiven Petunia for ignoring Harry. "Or if," she laughed, "her didn't waste a load of money every month on so for a load of fabric for clothes that never get made!"_

"_Well, they're getting made this time," Sirius commentated, pouring Arabella a cup, who accepted it gratefully. He tried to ignore the comment Arabella had made about Madam Malkin's large pay as it just made him angry and poor company._

"_Waste of bloody money," Arabella snorted. "If they've not been to Court in these past 17 years then they ain't going now. Especially now that they've done away with poor Harry. I don't like her, but she's no fool neither."_

She's not a fool, Sirius agreed with that whole heartedly. But then here she was going to Court. He had a nice, mental image of the Dursleys getting to the gates before deciding no, this wasn't the year, but quickly dismissed it. Amusing thought, yes, but sadly it wouldn't be happening.

Tonks let off a massive yawn and Sirius scowled. It should have been _his_ job to drive the carriage. Strangely, however, the Dursleys seemed disinclined to trust him and had ordered the poor exhausted Tonks to do it instead. It was conditioned, of course, upon her choosing a sensible colour for her hair or they would first give her legs and backside a good lashing first. Tonks, not willing to endure the agony that would involve, had thus muted her hair to a dismal mousy brown, pulled back out of her face. All the metamorphic skill in world, however, could not hide the huge shadows under her eyes.

"Well, I never thought I'd see the day," Sirius muttered to her, still slightly disbelieving.

She shook her head. "Me neither. But we always knew they were a bunch of idiots."

Sirius gave a short bark of laughter but felt uneasy. Petunia was a cold, calculating bitch. There had to be some gain in this for her – she would not be going through this plan if it was as seemingly stupid as the rest of them thought. Something else was going on here, but for the life of him, Sirius couldn't figure out what. Instead his thoughts were just going round and round in circles.

"Bloody hell!" Tonks said suddenly before making an odd choking noise. Sirius looked at her in alarm before realising that she was trying not to laugh. Following her gaze, Sirius found he was soon making choking noises of his own.

Dudley Dursley looked extremely uncomfortable in his Court clothes, tugging at the unfamiliar fabric. In all fairness to Madam Malkin she had had done a very good job to try and flatter Dudley's rather rotund figure especially given all the difficulties she and her assistants had faced. The tunic was a velvety blue, with white diamonds embroidered on the chest and white accents on the puffed upper sleeves. Madam Malkin had also added a sleeveless, knee-length silvery robe which, whilst maybe not being the height of fashion, certainly did much to disguise Dudley's bulk.

What Tonks and Sirius were sniggering at, however, was not Dudley's outfit but rather the two things he had chosen to accessorize them with; a feathered hat that added half again to Dudley's height and his new sword which was so long it dragged against the floor.

Sirius first wondered where on earth they'd found a bird to have a feather that big before his brain caught up to his thoughts and he realised that it was probably engorged. He got a rather evil little kick out of a Dursley wearing something so obviously bewitched when they rather despised magic. It was dyed a light silvery blue to match Dudley's outfit and swayed violently to and fro as Dudley walked out towards the carriage.

Whilst he laughed at the feather, Sirius couldn't help wincing as the sword made a grating sound as it was dragged across the ground. Remus had mentioned that sword earlier and, now that he thought about it, Sirius remembered watching the Dursleys enter into the sword shop when Hermione was changing. It probably cost a fortune and there it was, being dragged across the ground like a wooden toy. '_At least,_' Sirius consoled himself, '_it's in the sheath._' If it hadn't then no doubt there would be gouges all over Godric's Hollow _and_ the Palace.

Petunia emerged after her son, dressed far more sedately in a burgundy dress although its skirts seemed to treble her skinny width. She was also wearing an expression of immense pride. "You look wonderful, Duddykins," she told him, smiling proudly, causing another outburst of smothered giggling.

"Right proper gentleman," Vernon agreed gruffly, clapping Dudley's back.

"It's uncomfortable," Dudley complained, pulling again at the fabric.

"It's only for a short while, sweetums," Petunia placated, pausing to reset the clothing the Dudley had set off with his fidgeting. "And the sword looks absolutely wonderful. Have you decided what to name it, yet?"

Dudley put a hand over the grip and grinned. "Stabber," he said.

Vernon gave out a loud chortle. "That's my boy, call it what it is," he boomed. "I won't have with all these fancy, wishy washy names. A sword is a weapon, not a piece of jewellery."

"Well, Vernon, we had better be off," Petunia said. She looked at him knowingly. "Don't want to be late." Her eyes narrowed as she looked towards Sirius and Tonks who, mercifully, had managed to control themselves by then. "You there – get the horses ready, we must be off. And you, get back into the house! If you haven't got anything better to do than laze about then I'm sure I can find you something to do!" she threatened.

Only years of practice had enabled the Hollow's servants to distinguish which 'you' meant who. "I'd better be off," Sirius whispered to Tonks under the pretence of checking the horses reigns. "Keep an eye and an ear out – I want to know what they're up to."

"Will do, Sirius," Tonks agreed, hopping up on to the driver's seat. "I'll see you later."

As Sirius headed off towards the stables he felt someone watching him and turned round. Petunia met his eyes and Sirius was uneasy to see a flash of triumph in her eyes. She looked away almost immediately, going to help Dudley get his enormous hat in the carriage without bending the feather or shutting it in the door.

Ordinarily the scene would have filled Sirius with mirth, but that look of triumph had really unsettled him. '_Looks like I shouldn't have laughed at Remus yesterday,_' Sirius thought, a little bit guilty. But honestly it made no sense. What on earth were the Dursleys up to?

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Ginny was absolutely furious.

Sadly, she recognised, it was becoming an all too common occurrence recently. She shot an angry look at her mother who ignored it with well-practiced ease. Her father didn't ignore her, however, but simply told her, "Just wait and see."

She scowled. It wasn't like she had much of a choice. And she didn't see why she had to meet this stupid earl in the first place, especially when she probably would be doing everything she could to get out of marrying him. But her parents had other plans.

"You should meet him, pumpkin," her father had said that morning when they dropped this bombshell. "You never know, you might like him."

"What," Ginny had said rudely, "like an old fart who's old enough to be my grandfather? No chance!"

The Queen and Percy had glared at her balefully, although Ron tried hard to not snort into his eggs. "Actually, Ginevra, he's about Ronald's age."

Ginny and Ron had both stared at their mother in surprise. "Really?" Ron asked. "Do I know him?"

But she had shaken her head. "I don't think so – apparently he was home-schooled, his family didn't want to send him to Durmstrang."

"Oh." Ginny had pondered this whilst she finished her breakfast. Her visions of her future husband had always been nightmares of a crusty old man, doddering about a rundown castle somewhere. She had never once considered that the Earl might be about her age.

'_That still doesn't mean I want to marry him_,' she thought fiercely, glaring at the doors that would soon reveal her 'fate'. Further questioning of her parents revealed that _they_ had never met the boy either but said that his mother and father, who had died when he was little, were very well spoken of. When it turned out that they hadn't met _them_ either, Ginny gave it up. '_Just excuses to try and make me – no, _them! _– feel better about selling me off._'

She shot a look across to Ron who sent her a sympathetic look. She rather despised Ron at the moment. It was alright for _him_ – he'd found someone! And yes, whilst Lily was very mysterious, she was also good fun, intelligent and had a mind of her own. Huzzah for Ron.

But as for Ginny she only had three days – THREE DAYS – left to find someone and here her precious time was being eaten up by meeting with her mysterious fiancée. She did think it extremely unfair of her parents – Ron didn't have to meet his French Princess until after he decided to marry her. Why did she have to meet hers first?

'_Bloody Merlin,_' Ginny thought, stiffening up in terror as the doors to the receiving chamber suddenly opened. '_This is it!_'

The herald strode in and announced, "His Grace, Earl Harry James Potter and his aunt, the Lady Petunia Dursley."

Ginny stared. And stared. '_Oh, please Merlin, no!_' she prayed as horror unfurled inside her.

For Harry James Potter was an idiot.

He was a large man, that much was obvious, although his clothes had been well tailored for his size. _That _she could deal with. But unfortunately for Ginny she had grown rather used to reading her would-be suitors. You had to be when you were a Royal Princess because they could pop up anywhere. And, as clear as day, she could say that her would-be fiancée was a total idiot. She could see it in his stupid grinning face; the way he strutted into the room; the way the ridiculous feather on his hat brushed the floor as he bowed; the way the sword he wore sheathed at his belt scraped along the floor…

"Your Majesties," he intoned, "Your Highnesses."

It seemed even Ginny's parents were a little taken aback too, because there was a weighty pause before King Arthur said, "Earl Potter, Lady Dursley. Welcome to the palace. May I introduce my wife, Queen Molly, my two sons, Princes Percy and Ronald, and, of course, Princess Ginevra."

Ginny inclined her head as shortly as she could feasibly get away with and looked back up to see Earl Potter grinning at her with an almost greedy expression.

'_I HATE you,_' Ginny thought fiercely to her parents. '_How in the name of Merlin can they do this to me? 'Nice parents' my royal arse!_'

"Would you like to join us for some tea?" Queen Molly asked.

"Tea would be lovely, Your Majesty, thank you."

Ginny had almost forgotten that a Lady had entered with Earl Potter – his aunt, if she remembered correctly. Looking over at the blond haired woman she felt a chill go through her. Whatever her nephew might be, this woman was _not_ an idiot. Her expression did hold hints of greed, just like _him_, but it was tempered by a look of cool calculation. This was not a Lady to be trifled with.

As the small company moved towards the set of chairs laid out for them, Ginny was horrified to see that Potter was heading straight for her. She shot a desperate glance at Ron who, seeing her troubles, quickly moved to try and intercept him. Alas, however, he was not quite fast enough and had to settle onto Ginny's other side instead. He did, however, give Ginny's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"So, Harry," King Arthur said kindly, once everyone was settled. "I hear that you were tutored at home by some of the finest educators in the Kingdom. You must have learnt some fascinating things."

"We made sure he would only have the best, Your Majesty," Lady Dursley said, smiling fondly at her nephew. "After all, we felt like we just couldn't send him to Durmstrang when it became apparent he did not inherit his parents' magical gifts. To see the others learning magic and be forever reminded what he was lacking…" She shook her head sadly.

"Well, Durmstrang does educate both wizards _and_ muggles, Lady Petunia," Queen Molly pointed out, accepting the cup of tea a footman presented her.

"Oh, I know, Your Majesty," Dursley agreed, "but it still seemed rather cruel. Besides, I must admit to being a little selfish; after what happened to my own boy I couldn't bear to be apart from dear Harry."

'_Well that might explain a few things,_' Ginny thought. '_He's a mummy's boy. Or is that aunty's boy?_'

"Oh dear, what happened to your son?" the Queen asked, looking worried.

Petunia shook her head sadly. "He died of pneumonia," she said, quietly. "He was only 4 years old. My poor, beautiful Dudley."

The King and Queen looked rather awkward at that, the Queen's eyes glistening with tears. Ginny did feel sorry for Lady Petunia, it _was_ an awful thing to lose your son, but she couldn't help but feel a bit cynical about the way she had dragged her dead boy into the conversation. This show of affection didn't at all fit in with the calculating expression she had espied earlier on.

Then she shook her head mentally. '_Snap out of it, Ginny, you're just looking for a reason to hate this woman and her awful nephew. Don't be so cynical._'

Her mother had taken Dursley's hand. "You poor dear," she said sympathetically. "It must be awful to lose a child. I thank Merlin every day that all seven of mine survived, although it was almost a relief to get into the palace and have access to all the healers we could need."

"Your Majesties have indeed been very lucky," Dursley agreed and then the conversation fell silent once more. Ginny sipped her tea woodenly, hardly noticing when the hot liquid burned her lips. Even when she couldn't see him she could feel Potter's eyes on her and it made her skin crawl. She suddenly found her wishing fervently for that crusty old man of her nightmares. Surely he – or anyone! – would be better than the creep sat next to her now?

"You have a wonderful sword, Earl Potter," Ron said suddenly, making her start slightly. "Can I look at it?"

Potter smirked. "Of course, Your Highness," he simpered, standing and unclipping the sword from his belt. "It's an early birthday present from mu – my aunt and uncle." Having unclipped the enormous sword, however, he struggled slightly to pass it over to Ron, who had come up behind Ginny.

Ron looked at it closely and even Ginny, who knew nothing about swords, could tell it was a magnificent blade. '_What a waste it is on him_,' she thought, admiring the gleaming silver of the blade and the beautiful rubies set into the pommel. It was too long by far for Potter to handle, but Ron, who was at least 7 inches taller, handled it easily. He swung the weapon carefully through the air a few times before handing back to a slightly jealous looking Potter who nearly dropped it.

"It's a brilliant sword," Ron said, only just remembering to bow in Dursley's direction. "You should come and have a bout with some of us one day."

Ginny tried not to giggle as Potter went a bit pale at that. It was apparent to everyone he could not lift the blade, even if he _did_ know how to wield it which Ginny doubted. "Oh, er, n-no thank you, Your Highness," he stuttered, looking to his aunt nervously.

"Really?" Ron asked, looking surprised. "Don't you want to show off such a fantastic weapon?"

"Oh, er, well – " Potter spluttered again before the King cut across him.

"Now, now, Ron," he said sternly, although his eyes twinkled merrily. "Don't harass our guest."

"Sorry, father," Ron said, bowing towards him and then at Potter, who looked confused but relieved.

"Princess Ginevra," Dursley suddenly said in the silence that followed, "I was wondering if you would like to accompany myself and Harry to the market tomorrow morning. We are so looking forward to welcoming you into our family, after all, and want you to get to know us before the wedding."

"Oh, er," Ginny said in a startlingly good impression of Potter. She had frozen up once more. All she wanted to do was scream 'No, no, NO!' at Dursley and Potter but she couldn't think of any polite way of refusing. She _had_ to find a way out of this marriage and she was never going to do that unless she had time to actually go looking for someone – anyone – else to marry!

"I think that sounds like a lovely idea," Queen Molly interrupted whilst Ginny was frozen in thought. All pretence at civility gone, Ginny shot her mother a look of horror. Luckily Dursley and Potter were looking at the Queen and did not notice. "Although I think, for proprieties sake, Lady Petunia, that I had better send along Prince Ronald and maybe Lord Longbottom too as chaperones."

Dursley found no objection to that. "That sounds wonderful, Your Majesty," she said, smiling sweetly at the Queen. "You really are most thoughtful. We shall call for you at half ten then?"

As the Queen made noises of agreement and Dursley and Potter made to leave, Ginny stood woodenly to her feet. She hardly remembered what she said in farewell, although she vivdly remembered the sloppy kiss Potter boldly placed on her hand. All she knew was that as soon as they were going she whirled round on her parents.

"If you think that anything in the world will make me marry that oaf then you have another thing coming!"

The King and Queen looked suitably uncomfortable. "Well, he wasn't what we were expecting," her father admitted slowly, "but I'm sure he improves when you get to know him better." He sounded a bit doubtful at that.

"And don't forget," Queen Molly added as Ginny made to make a furious rebuttal, "that our compromise is still available to you. Find someone you love and we'll break the contract. Don't waste your time ranting and raving, Ginevra. You've got some work to do."

'_Yes I have,_' Ginny thought furiously as she stormed out from the room, almost knocking over the poor Herald. '_And you can bet your stupid crown that I'm never going to marry Early Harry James sodding Potter. Not in a million years!_'

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

As worrying as the Dursley's attendance at Court was, it did bring about an unexpected bonus. Whilst it was true that Vernon was still in the manor he had ordered Remus to bring him up a bottle of their best port, fully intending to drink himself into oblivion whilst his son and wife were away. This meant that the rest of the manor was free for a badly needed meeting between all the servants, minus Tonks.

However, it was very difficult for the small group to settle down to business because all they could talk about were the startling developments in the Dursley household.

"But it's ridiculous!" Harry kept protesting. "It makes no sense – why now? As far as they're aware I'm on my way to the other side of the world by now. What will they do if someone asks them to produce me?"

"Maybe they'll just tell the truth," Remus suggested. He laughed when the others looked at him derisively. "Not that they sold him – maybe just that he decided to go to the Americas, start a new life there."

Sirius made a face. "I bloody well hope not, because there's no way to prove they're lying in that case."

"I'm sure it will seem suspicious though," Hermione said. "Someone might suspect _something_."

"Yeah, it probably will," Sirius agreed. "But they still won't be able to prove anything."

"Maybe Petunia's realised what a pickle she's got herself into and is trying to marry Dudley off to some rich and powerful family for added protection?" Harry suggested, with a grin which then turned into a full blown laugh. "Or maybe they're going after Princess Ginevra – oh, I hope Tonks gets a good view of _that_ one!"

They all laughed. Harry and Hermione had, of course, filled both wizards in on their doings the day before and they knew that Princess Ginevra wouldn't look too kindly on Dudley propositioning her.

"Well, whatever the reason it doesn't bode well for us," Remus said as the laughter died down, getting them back on topic. "We don't know what they're doing, or how they're behaving at Court… they could very well be forming alliances, making allies, that will work against us when we try to tell the truth."

"Then we need to make some allies of our own," Harry decided firmly. "Sirius, Remus, you _must_ have some old contacts from _somewhere_ that will be willing to listen to you."

Sirius and Remus exchanged looks. "Maybe Baron Greenback," Sirius said slowly. "He was a couple of years above your Dad and me at Durmstrang. Nice chap, muggle… I think he's something to do with the palace treasury now."

"I could talk to some of Lily and James' old acquaintances," Remus added. "Some of them might be willing to listen. Countess McGonagall, Lady McKinnon – no, she's a Barleigh now – Baron Thomas…"

"Do you think Tonks will have any?" Hermione asked, for the older witch was still stuck at the palace with Dudley and Petunia. "She goes travelling all over for the Dursleys on business, maybe she can talk to some of them."

"That's a brilliant idea, Hermione," Remus beamed. His face dropped, "Although I don't want to have to send her out again, she's only just got back."

Sirius sniggered slightly. He had become convinced a few months ago that Remus had a 'thing' for his young cousin and nothing Remus said would convince him otherwise. Now Remus had learnt to just ignore the immature ageing prankster.

"Well we still have that money from the Princess," Hermione said slowly, also ignoring Sirius. "We can use that to hire owls from the post office and send letters so she could stay close by." The Potters had had their very own owl, a beautiful eagle owl called Beaks, until the Dursleys had tired of the owl's shrieking and ordered it killed. Sirius and Remus suspected that that had just been an excuse, for it left their servants with no easy way of sending out letters to others. Now they had to rely on regular mail or the faster owl service the post office offered, both of which cost a lot of money.

"Let's just hope that they'll believe us," Remus said, sounding tired. The full moon had only been 3 nights ago though it seemed much longer than that. What with all the chaos and upset that had happened he had even less chance to recover than he normally did and it was finally getting to him.

"What are we going to do if they _do_ believe us?" Harry asked.

"We go to the King, of course," Sirius said.

"Oh, 'of course'," Harry mimicked sarcastically.

Sirius mock-glared at him. "Be quiet, impudent pup!" he ordered and ruffled Harry's hair with a laugh. Harry grinned back at Sirius. Merlin, it had only been two days but he'd missed Sirius and Remus. Although he couldn't exactly say he'd been bored, what with the Prince and – the Prince!

"The Prince!" he exclaimed out loud. "What an idiot, I can't believe I didn't think of this earlier. Hermione, we have to tell the Prince."

Hermione looked alarmed. "I thought we decided yesterday we couldn't," she protested, nervously.

"Yes and in hindsight that was a very good decision," Harry agreed, "but the Prince likes you. Not to mention Princess Ginevra and Lord Longbottom. That's a way in – a very _good_ way in."

Hermione's alarm hadn't lessened. "But Harry no matter how much good feeling they have towards me it's bound to be completely destroyed when they found out I lied about who I was!"

"She's got a point, Harry," Remus said, frowning thoughtfully. "This is a very delicate matter. Although Hermione wasn't intending to deceive the Prince and Princess at first, if she keeps up this façade then it's deliberate deception. And trust, once lost, is very hard to earn back," he added ruefully.

"It's worth a shot," Sirius said, eventually. "I know you've had bad experiences before Remus – we all have – but this Prince Ronald sounds like a decent person. Maybe a little thick-headed about certain things, but I still think he'll listen past the shock of discovering who 'Lily' really is to listen to Hermione's story."

Remus considered this but Hermione was adamantly shaking her head. "No, _no_! I can't!" she insisted, looking teary-eyed with panic. "I'm barely keeping up this charade as it is, I just don't think I can do it!"

"What happened to the fearless Countess who rescued me from the cages?" Harry asked, teasing.

Hermione sniffed a little. "That was different," she said. "I was doing it for you."

"Well, you're doing this for me as well," Harry pointed out, with a wry grin. "And Sirius, and Remus and Tonks."

"Don't forget yourself, Hermione," Sirius added, quietly. She looked over at him and his eyes blazed with passion. "If we can pull this off – if _you_ can – then you'll be free of the Dursleys for _ever_."

Hermione didn't say anything for a while. Eventually she gave a quiet sniff, pulled herself upright and out of Harry's arms. "I'll do it," she said resolutely, "for us."

"For us," the others echoed solemnly.

"So, we'd better get ahead with planning operation "Ronald"," Harry said with a grin after the moment had passed. Hermione groaned.

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" she asked, half serious, half laughing.

"No regrets, Countess," Sirius teased her. "Besides," he added, "what could go wrong?"

Famous last words.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

**Author's Notes:**

So there you have it! Probably quite a few of you guessed that this is where it was heading, with Dudley posing as Harry to try and get the crown. It's a lot more extreme than what the Baroness does in Ever After but then the whole thing is a lot darker! This chapter is also quite a bit shorter than the others, which have all been around the 7000 word mark, but these scenes work together and I didn't want to drag any in and disrupt the flow. I also didn't want to put more words in pointlessly. So sorry about that, but that's how it is!

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	12. Chapter 11: Market

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** - '_blah_' = thoughts

- Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**Chapter Eleven: Market**

Ginny rather wondered if there was a spell that caused a hole to open in the earth and swallow someone up. If there was, she'd quite like to use it now. Or, better yet, use it on Potter and his annoying Aunt.

'_I bet Lily would know,_' Ginny thought suddenly and scowled. Countess Lily had been nowhere to be seen yesterday, although she knew Ron had wandered around the riverbank hopefully for a good few hours. Now, stuck with chaperoning her and stupid Potter it looked as though he wouldn't see her today, either and was in almost a bad temper as she was.

Fortunately – or unfortunately – their 'charming hosts' had failed to realise that their royal guests were extremely reluctant guests. Part of this may have been due to Neville who, despite not wanting to be there any more than the rest of them, was at least managing to add in a small comment here and there.

The other reason their reticence went unnoticed was due to Lady Dursley. Whilst Potter – who, thank Merlin, had decided to leave behind his feathered hat today – seemed perfectly content to walk beside her, grinning like an idiot and trying to grab her hand when she wasn't looking, Dursley never seemed to shut up.

"Of course, we're _so_ honoured that your Highnesses would accompany us," she kept repeating until Ginny wanted to hit her over the head every time.

And of course she just kept going on and _on_ about how virtuous she was. "It was such a deep blow to me when my poor sister died," she said at one point. "So young and so talented, it was such a waste. And then, of course, my own Dudley following not soon after." She smiled lovingly at Potter. "We'd both been orphaned in some way, you see, Your Highness. It was so hard to carry on, but I knew it was what Lily wanted me to do."

Ron perked up at that. "Where?" he asked wildly whilst Dursley stared at him, utterly confused.

Ginny had to laugh, if only because Ron had succeeded in throwing Dursley off balance. "Different Lily, Ron."

"Oh," Ron said and then sank disappointedly back into his stupor.

Dursley continued to stare at Ron, ghost of some strange emotion on her face. Sighing, Neville prepared to take up the reigns of the conversation once more and she felt a rush of affection for him. He was the only one in the whole party who didn't have a part to play, but he was the only one who seemed to be trying. She felt rather guilty.

"So, Lady…" Ginny hurriedly racked her brains for the Lady's first name, "Petunia – tell me about your estate. Is it far from Town?"

Dursley smiled at her, thinking that she was finally getting through to the strangely uncommunicative Princess. "Not at all, Your Highness," she simpered. "It is but two and a bit miles from the south gate over the river."

"Oh," said Ginny, something sparking sudden recognition. "Is it set off the road, hidden by some enormous pine trees?"

Dursley shot her a quick, surprised look. "It is, Your Highness," she confirmed, although her voice held more suspicion than surprise. "How do you know of it?"

"Oh," Ginny repeated and wishing she'd never brought it up, "I had to, er, borrow one of your broomsticks the other day. Frightened one of your servant girls to death at the same time, I think. You should be proud, she rather fiercely protected your belongings from what she thought were thieves."

It was amazing how many different expressions someone's face could go through in a split second. Dursleys went from disbelief, recognition, anger and amazingly enough fear. That last one flashed by so fast, however, that Ginny couldn't be at all sure that she hadn't imagined it. The expression Dursley settled on was one of polite surprise.

"She didn't say anything," was all she commented.

Ginny was feeling very uncomfortable now and cursed herself for being an idiot. First she had frightened some poor girl by stealing from her and now she had probably put into some horrible kind of trouble with Dursley all because she had ordered her not to say a word. Ginny had no illusions that Dursley was nice to her servants, not with those hard edges to her face.

"Well, I did give her a Royal Command not to tell anyone, Lady Petunia," Ginny settled on saying, hoping it would prevent further trouble for the maid. "I wouldn't be too hard on her, I did give her s – an awful fright," Ginny corrected, mentally kicking herself. There she had been, ready to give the girl away again. Maybe the maid had bought a new broomstick with the money after all, but Ginny wouldn't blame her if she'd kept it for herself. She doubted Dursley paid a generous wage. "Please allow me to repair you the loss – I can have the finest broom makers send over their best broom within a few days."

Dursley gave a short, stiff laugh. "Oh no, Your Highness, that won't be necessary," she said shortly. "Those brooms actually belonged to Harry's father. We, of course, don't use them much. You needn't bother with replacing it."

"If you wish, my Lady," Ginny acknowledged and refused to say any more about it, even though Dursley tried to bring the subject round a few more times. Ginny just resolutely kept her mouth shut. She had tried, she really had, to join in with the conversation and look where that had gotten her!

One thing however did puzzle her as Petunia, giving up on Ginny, continued to prattle on about the estate as they walked to the market. Petunia said no one ever used the brooms, which made sense; neither she nor her mysterious husband was magical and Potter was a squib. Yet the broom she'd stolen was very well cared for. The servant girl had even pleaded with her to take another.

"_We have other brooms, Your Highness, if you want."_

So she wasn't trying to stop her stealing any broom, just that particular one. Ginny felt even guiltier about that. Clearly the broom was special – to whom? To her? Did the Dursleys have some magical servants? It did, after all, used to be home to a magical family so maybe they had trained up some of their able servants and it had passed down to their children?

'_Idiot, Ginevra,_' she scolded herself suddenly. '_She used a spell against you, didn't she? Clearly she has magic and she knows how to use it._'

All the same she found her interest very piqued by the Potter-Dursley household. So, when Dursley commented, "We hold a stall for our excess produce at the farm on market days" Ginny leapt on the imagined invitation.

"Well, we'd love to see that, wouldn't we Neville?"

Both Neville and Dursley looked taken aback at this. Neville recovered first saying, "Oh, yes, that sounds, um, great" at Ginny's forceful glare.

"Oh, but I don't want to bore you," Dursley said hurriedly. '_Too late,_' Ginny thought. "And our servants are… well, they're not the refined sort you have in the Palace, Your Highnesses."

"They will soon be _my_ servants too, will they not Lady Petunia?" Ginny quizzed sweetly, ignoring the fact that she was _not_ going to marry this oaf, who had not said two words together this whole time. "And I'm sure their manners will be most perfect if they have been trained by you."

She didn't want to, Ginny could tell, but Ginny had backed Dursley into a corner. She couldn't refuse now without either looking suspicious or admitting she had inadequately trained her servants. "Of course, if that is what Her Highness wishes," she said eventually. She hid her anger well, but Ginny caught a sight of it in her eyes all the same, along with that flash of fear once more.

'_What is she so afraid of?_' Ginny wondered, but she had a feeling she knew. There were some noble families, she knew, who were completely intolerant of magic in their servants. The Malfoy family was one of them – their son, who had the unfortunate name of Draco, often boasted about it. Ginny herself thought nothing of it, but she was beginning to suspect that Dursley did.

Neville caught her eye and sent her a puzzled look as Dursley moved ahead. 'I'll tell you later' Ginny mouthed although she wasn't completely sure herself. All she knew was that she wanted to talk to that maid she had frightened the other day. Thinking about the desperation in her voice, her mind suddenly flashed back to the sight of Gryffindor swooping in front to grab the snitch out from under her, his strangely green eyes twinkling joyfully. '_What a difference your master makes,_' Ginny thought, suddenly appreciating Countess Lily's strange views on the politics of servants.

'_I'm going to find that girl,_' she decided, '_and she and I are going to have a nice, long chat._'

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Market day was one of the hardest days of the week. They had to get up even earlier than usual so that they had time to fulfil most of their morning chores, before loading up the cart and joining the rest of traffic heading into town.

With the aid of their wands, loading the cart was always fairly easy, and with the help of lightweight and undetectable expansion charms the cart was able to carry a lot more produce than it should. It was the unloading that was the issue. Whilst magic was fairly common place, most people still looked upon it suspiciously, even more so since the emergence of the death eaters. They couldn't even risk the featherweight charms so unloading the cart became physically exhausting.

"That's the last one," Sirius said eventually, dropping down onto an empty crate with relief. "Merlin, I'm exhausted."

"You're getting old, Sirius," Hermione teased, although she too felt drained. Usually there were three of them to work the stall but Tonks was out ferrying the Dursleys back to Court and Harry, obviously, was back hiding in the Shack. He had been looking rather mutinous when Hermione had dropped off his breakfast and Hermione couldn't blame him. Whilst he had managed to get out a surprising number of times, he was still mostly confined to the rundown hovel.

Remus had come with them but, with the past few days and the exhaustion of the full moon catching up to him he had struggled to lift even the lightest box off the cart. The others had bade him rest a while and he gratefully took a nap underneath the cart. Sirius had placed a notice-me-not charm down so that he wouldn't be run off by people thinking he was a vagrant.

"Never!" Sirius protested, eyes twinkling. "Those boxes are just heavy – in fact, I reckon Remus must have magically increased the weight of mine. Asleep my arse, you two are ganging up on me!"

Hermione laughed and began to organise the produce so that would be customers could see them more clearly. They had been a bit late arriving to the market place due as Petunia had requisitioned their fastest horses for herself and Dudley. Luckily it was still quite early for shoppers, but the market would pick up very quickly.

"It's a shame Tonks could find nothing out," Hermione said, repeating their disappointments from last night. The Dursleys had made Tonks stay with the horse whilst they entered the palace proper. Tonks said they hadn't said anything to her when they came back, just ordered her to take them back to the manor as fast as possible.

It had been a bit of a shock to hear the carriage rolling in so soon and poor Harry had had to hide under some straw in the kitchen garden, several very strong notice-me-not charms adding further protection. There was a moment when they all thought he would have to stay there till nightfall in case any of the Dursleys espied him. Luckily for him, though, Petunia had not been pleased to come in and find Vernon roaring drunk on port. The ensuing row had been so fearsome that Harry felt perfectly safe dashing across the grounds into the shelter once more of the Shrieking Shack.

"I don't know," Sirius joked, "I think she seemed to have a great time watching the aurors work out. I think Remus has got some competition."

"Shut up, Sirius," came Remus' weary voice from under the cart.

Sirius just grinned and carried on arranging the boxes. Hermione, trying not to laugh, finished off her row and bent down to pick up a stray carrot. Rising to her feet she jumped as a shape loomed in front of her and then tried not to scowl when she realised who it was.

"Hermione Granger," the figure said in a voice that made her skin crawl. "You get prettier every week."

"And you, Master Greyback, are wasting your flattery," Hermione retorted but couldn't help a shudder. Fenrir Greyback was not a noble but had a fair amount of land to the south-east of the town, bringing him a fair income from the small farms he held there. Despite his own holdings, Greyback came to their stall without fail every week, bought a bushel of vegetables and tried to persuade Hermione to join him in his castle.

Speaking of which…

"I may be twice your age, little witch, but I'm well endowed," he cajoled, grabbing her hand in his large paw-like ones. "Just think of my large estate," he purred and Hermione shivered a little, yanking her hands free. He noticed her tremble, though, and leant in even closer. "I've always had a soft-spot for poor, little witches… especially young ones with spirit."

"Prunes?" Hermione snapped suddenly, interrupting his speech.

He looked at her in a mix between amusement and annoyance. "No," he said. "I'll be nothing this week. And you'd do well to remember," he added, leaning in close to Hermione again, "that without my generous nature your pathetic, little farm would cease to exist. And then, little witch, you'd have nowhere to run to but to me and I won't nearly be so generous then. So I'd be careful if I were you," he added with a chilling laugh as he walked away from them.

Hermione shuddered all over, but mainly with anger. "I _hate_ that man – foul, loathsome thing!" she snapped.

"If he didn't buy so much from us every week I'd curse him into oblivion," Sirius agreed, watching Fenrir's back with a hatred usually reserved just for the Dursleys. "Don't quite know how I've restrained myself so far."

"Probably by remembering that you'd be arrested and then the vile man would have a free run at me," Hermione said, scowling. "You, Remus and Harry are probably the only reasons he's never tried to grab me before."

"I doubt that," Sirius said, looking sickened. "He's the type of psychopath who gets a kick out of his victims coming along to him willingly."

"Well, don't worry, Sirius," Hermione said feelingly, "this is one victim who won't come to him willingly."

As she served the next few customers that came along in dribs and drabs, Hermione couldn't help but think of Greyback, most especially of the rumours that flung about the market place. Apparently his interest in 'poor little girls' wasn't unique to just Hermione. Everyone said that he was always hiring young girls to go work at his castle and that they were never heard of again. Those townsfolk with a slightly more vivid imagination whispered that he locked the girls up and tortured them in all kinds of horrible ways. More realistic townsfolk assumed that he simply sent the girls on to work at one of his farmsteads elsewhere in the country and that was why they were never seen about town.

Hermione didn't honestly believe that even Greyback would be so audacious as to torture girls right under the noses of the Crown, but she did agree that there was something creepy about him. She always felt horribly dirty after each encounter and wished he would just leave her alone.

Luckily their stream of customers soon picked up and Hermione was too busy to think on her encounter with Greyback. They even had to kick Remus awake to help when it got closer to noon. Eventually the rush died down slightly and Hermione sighed with relief. Whilst Remus and Sirius served their current customer she bent down at the back of the stall to grab their last chicken to bring to the front.

"Good morning, gentlemen."

Another customer, Hermione thought, standing up to put the chicken down… and finding herself staring right into the startled eyes of Prince Ronald!

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Ronald couldn't believe the complete waste of a morning he'd been having. This was his second day since seeing Countess Lily and, at the rate this stupid tour was going, he doubted he'd have a chance to see her at all today.

Not, of course, that he could find her even if he _wasn't_ wrapped up in Princely duties but still. At least he could _look._

Still, he had to feel for poor Ginny. He had been pretty dumbfounded when he'd met his future brother-in-law yesterday but now he was just getting more and more incredulous with every step he took. What on earth were his parents thinking, even _considering_ making this utter prat part of their family? They'd sprouted some nonsense about his parents, yadda yaddah yadda, but even Ron could see Potter was a complete moron.

In a way he thought it a shame that his extremely dull and clingy aunt hadn't sent him to Durmstrang. Ron was sure he wouldn't have liked him much better there, but at least he'd be able to fight him a few times and not worry about the consequences. Who knows, maybe even going to Durmstrang would have sorted him out a bit, made him less of a prat.

'_Er, no,_' Ron amended, watching with disgust as Potter tried to grab poor Ginny's hand again, missing, and tripping on a stone as he went off-balance. '_Some people just aren't fixable_.'

Still, it made him feel better about his French Princess. Although still an unknown, there was _no_ possible way she could be worse than Potter. Not, of course, that he would be marrying her if he could help it.

As had been happening frequently as of late, Ron found his thoughts drifting towards Countess Lily Ravenclaw. For the umpteenth time he wondered who this mysterious cousin of hers was. He couldn't _believe_ he'd forgotten to wheedle out where she was staying and he hadn't the faintest clue how he could find out.

Actually, that wasn't completely true. Whilst his usual sources of courtly information – namely Neville, Ginny and his mother – had all come up blank, there were two he hadn't tried. It wasn't because he was _scared_, per se, more that talking to them opened up a large can of worms.

And that he was scared.

He had laughed off Neville's suggestion that Ron ask his grandmother for information. 'Not even for true love' had been his exact words. Well, that was two days ago now and he wasn't nearly as desperate as he was now. '_I've only got two days left now_,' he thought desperately. Today was clearly a write-off. He just hoped that Neville wouldn't laugh at him too much.

His other source… Ron cringed. Lady Lavender Brown and he had never been exactly what you'd call _courting_ but she'd certainly developed the hugest crush on him and had followed him round hopefully for a few weeks last summer, hoping for his favour. Although flattered at first, Ron quickly became rather bored of her mindless prattling and alarmed by her excessive shows of affection.

Ron was rather ashamed to admit that he dealt with the problem mainly by hiding from and avoiding the Lady until, hurt, she had eventually gotten the picture. He'd heard from a lot of the noblemen that he wasn't the only one to suffer from the 'Lavender treatment' but he was annoyed when Neville's grandmother had contrived for the two of them to meet that Neville had managed to escape scot free.

Ron couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Lady Lavender, let alone talked to her, but when he'd known her she'd always be telling him gossip about this and that lady. If she didn't already know who Countess Lily's cousin was then he doubted it would take her very long to find out.

Despite being nervous, Ron was happy he'd come to some sort of decision. He glanced over at Ginny again, feeling sorry for her, before realising that Ginny was looking rather interested – eager even!

"Why does Ginny look so excited all of a sudden?" Ron hissed to Neville, who looked surprised to see Ron paying attention to anything at all.

"No clue," Neville said with a shrug. "But she suddenly got all interested in seeing Potter's servants. Don't ask me why," he added as Ron opened his mouth to ask exactly that. "Some of them are working the market, we're headed there now."

Ron frowned as he followed the others. '_Why on earth was Ginny suddenly interested in servants?_' he thought, completely baffled. '_It's not as if we've plenty of servants back at the Palace. I don't see why these should be any different._'

Then Ron suddenly remembered the scathing remark Countess Lily had flung at him by the riverside:

"_First and foremost, a servant is a _person_, your Highness, not a thing."_

He felt guilty. There he'd been, thinking of servants as things again. One servant was the same as any other. That's certainly what he'd thought until he'd met Lily and then she'd started to challenging everything he thought left, right and centre. It was astonishing to think that he'd actually only met with her twice!

'_I promised myself I would be the kind of man she wanted,_' Ron reminded himself, speeding up a little to keep up with his party. '_So far I've done a pretty lousy job._' Besides, he remembered with a faint grin, hadn't he promised her to start talking to peasants? _'Here's my chance!_' he thought.

"How many servants do you keep, Lady Petunia?" Ron asked politely.

Lady Petunia looked at Ron with utter shock. "Oh, a few, Your Highness," she murmured, slightly disbelievingly. "But only three work the market place."

Over Petunia's shoulder, Ginny shot him an inquisitive look, much like he had thrown her a few minutes earlier. He ignored her. "And what do you sell?"

Petunia pursed her lips slightly as though appraising Ron suspiciously. He felt a bit uncomfortable under her gaze and suddenly wandered if his initial assessment of her as an enthusiastic, but dim-witted fawning mother – aunt – may have been a little wrong.

"You can see for yourself, Your Highnesses, my stall is just over there," she said eventually, smiling once more although it was a cold smile. Ron followed her gaze and saw a fairly large stand covered with all sorts of fruits and vegetables. Two slightly older gentlemen were exchanging money for a big basket of carrots with a young maid although he could not see a third.

"Excellent," he said, striding forward purposefully. He wasn't quite sure what to say – he had no idea what a servant did, especially one on a farm – but he was going to try his best. If he couldn't see Lily today, then at least he could do something she'd be proud of.

Startled at Ron's eagerness, the remaining nobles struggled after him, especially Potter. As it was, he was quite a bit ahead of the others when he reached the stall and greeted them quite cheerfully, "Good morning, gentlemen."

Suddenly, everything erupted into chaos.

He had a brief glance of horror-filled recognition on the faces of the two gentlemen before a third figure moved suddenly and then there was a chicken in his face!

"Oi! Get it off!" Ron yelled as the bird clawed at his face. Stumbling backwards he hit someone – a couple of someone's possibly – and then he was falling backwards, stupid chicken still squawking about on his head.

"Here, cluck, get!" A loud voice said and, to Ron's immense relief, the abominable chicken fluttered off of his face and began clucking contentedly somewhere next to him. A large hand presented itself in front of Ron's dazed face and he grabbed it gratefully. As he was hauled back on his feet, Ron found him face to face with one of the two servants.

"Sorry about that, Your Highness," he said, quite cheerfully. "Chickens can be a bit flighty when they're startled."

Ron stared at him in astonishment. Apparently Countess Lily wasn't the only one who kept strange, out spoken servants. Or maybe, Ron thought suddenly, was the Palace the exception and not the rule?

The servant darted around him and Ron turned to survey with growing embarrassment the scene he'd just caused.

Apparently the 'someone's he had knocked into had been Lady Petunia and Potter, knocking them completely off their feet. The other servant, who looked older with his grey hair, had already helped an enraged Petunia up and was listening to her snapping at her with a blank expression.

"You idiots!" she was hissing. "What were you trying to do, scare the Prince to death – and you could have killed me."

"I'm sorry, my Lady," the man said apologetically. "We were a little bit startled and lost control of the bird." He bowed deeply. "It will not happen again."

Hang on, Ron thought suddenly, that wasn't quite right. Someone had been startled and thrown a chicken… but he didn't think it was either of those two. There had been a third person, he was sure… but when he looked around, he couldn't see anyone else at the stall, just a group of staring on-lookers and a near hysterical Ginny and Neville.

He looked back at the two servants confused. "Were there just the two of you?"

"Well and the chicken, Sire," groaned the first servant as he tried to heave Potter up from the ground. It didn't look like an easy job and Petunia, seeing the troubles her nephew was in, made a little shrieking noise.

"Here, let me help," Ron offered, moving forward to take Potter's other hand, but Petunia at once called out, "No, Prince Ronald, please don't trouble yourself. You," she snapped to the other servant, "go help him."

Ron, quite happy to not have to try and heave the whale of an Earl off the ground, stepped back. He was surprised to see that the servant who replaced him was probably only a few years older than the first, despite the grey hair. He also looked so frail and tired that Ron almost stepped back to help. He wasn't needed, however, and soon the two men had Earl Potter back on two tree-trunk-like legs, none the worst for his ideal.

Petunia eventually managed to say, "If Your Highnesses don't mind, I think we would like to be escorted back to the palace now."

She looked so furious that Ron didn't dare refuse, although he had wanted to talk more with the two servants. Ginny was too busy laughing still, tears streaming down her face, to say no and Neville was clearly relieved to end this nightmare of a morning.

As their awkward party turned around from the alley Petunia's servants had set up their stall, Ron turned back to look at them. It was stupid, he knew, but for a split second, before all the feathers and screaming, Ron could have sworn he had seen Countess Lily's startled face…

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

It became known as the Great Chicken Escapade.

"I just panicked," a flustered Hermione said that night as everyone gathered to hear her tale. The Dursleys had retired surprisingly early that night, Dudley and Petunia complaining rather of aches and pains whilst Vernon was still suffering under an almighty hangover. As such, Harry had decided to risk a visit to the kitchen of Godric's Hollow and now gathered around Hermione with Remus and Tonks, feeling elated to be free of the draughty Shack.

"So naturally you threw a chicken at him," he said, trying not to laugh. Tonks had given up that battle long ago and was currently shaking with mirth in a corner. Once she started a laughing fit it was very hard for her to stop, even if she wanted to.

Hermione went red. "It was the only thing I could think of to do!"

"Well, as far as distractions go, he played along beautifully," Remus commented, eyes twinkling, "bowling over both Dudley _and_ Petunia in the process."

Harry lost control then and burst out laughing. Tonks managed to gasp out, "Sounds even clumsier than me!" before she lost herself to giggles. Hermione even managed a small smile.

"Wish I'd been able to see that," she said mournfully. "I bet it was a beautiful sight, Dudley all squished underneath Petunia and Prince Ronald."

"Well, we're lucky it _was_ that way round otherwise Petunia and Ronald might not have survived," Harry pointed out, causing another fresh burst of laughter.

"Do you think the Princess or Lord Longbottom saw me?" Hermione asked Remus, who shook his head.

"They were a bit too far behind and then too busy, er, laughing themselves," Remus said.

"Thank Merlin for that," Hermione said in relief. "I was sure someone would see me run off to the side. I didn't think the chicken would cause such a diversion – a good thing it did!"

"No, I think it's fair to say that the chicken panicked just as much as you," Remus said wryly. Tonks, who had just managed to get herself under control, burst out into another fresh round of snorting laughs.

The kitchen door suddenly opened, making them all jump. Harry had gotten all the way under the table before he realised it was just Sirius. "Sorry," he said with a grin. "Did I make you all jump?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "Dog-brain. What did she want?"

Sirius smirked. "Headache cure. Apparently her head's been hurting ever since her little trip at the market place." They all laughed again. "Speaking of Petunia, Hermione," Sirius said suddenly, "you need to be a bit careful around her."

"Well, don't we all?" Hermione asked, a little confused. "Why just me?" Her eyes widened. "She didn't see me, did she?"

Sirius and Remus exchanged looks. "We don't think so," Remus said eventually, "but after you'd left the Prince asked us were there just two of us. I don't think he saw you," he added, as Hermione went white, "but I think he thought he saw a third person. He let it drop, but I saw Petunia stiffen. After all, there are usually always – "

"Three of us at the market," Hermione finished, looking worried. "And with Tonks at the palace I'm the only one that could have been there. I guess that explains why she interrogated the hell out of me when she came back." At the others' inquisitive looks she explained, "I didn't think going back was a good idea, just in case he _had_ seen me, so I went back to the Hollow. Almost ran, actually, I was so…"

"Panicky?" Harry suggested cheekily and Hermione swatted at him.

"When Petunia came back… Merlin, I don't think she's ever said so much to me! Asked me where I'd been all day, why I hadn't gone to market…"

"What did you tell her?" Sirius asked.

"That with staff so low we thought it best someone remain behind to wait on them or Lord Vernon, should he return early," Hermione said with a shrug. Vernon, still avoiding Court, had gone off to visit one of the small holdings further west. They all knew it was punishment from Petunia for the day before as it was a good two hours ride and Vernon had looked quite green before he had set off.

"Good thing the Prince is courting _you_, Hermione," Tonks said, shaking her head in wonder, "I'd never be able to think up so good a lie that quickly. Although, knowing me, I would have accidentally thrown myself at the Prince, along with the chicken."

The others laughed, but Hermione went red. "Prince Ronald is _not_ courting me," she snapped, but no one paid her any attention.

"The real question, though," Harry said suddenly, "is what in Merlin's name are Petunia and Dudley doing with the Prince and Princess? I mean, I don't know much about Court, but I doubt touring the market with two royals on your second day is standard practice."

"We wondered that, too," Sirius agreed, nodding towards Remus. "We can't figure it out either. Nothing Petunia's doing recently makes sense; first presenting Dudley to Court where _you_ will be conspicuously absent and now, instead of trying to create as little fuss as possible, there she is flouncing about with two royals!"

"Even stranger is that both Ronald and Ginevra seemed to rather dislike them," Remus added.

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances. "Well, we could have told you _that_," Harry said, thinking of the fierce Princess. "Although I am sad Ginevra didn't tell Dudley where to stuff it – that would have been worth getting a pensieve for, if you'd seen _that_!"

"Well, whatever the reason, we don't know enough about what they're up to and I don't like it," Sirius said, scowling.

"We'll just have to make sure we get our own plans well in motion then," Remus said. "Have you written that letter, Hermione?"

"Yes," Hermione said nervously, bringing out a small folded envelope. "I'll run it down to the post office tomorrow morning."

But Sirius was shaking his head. "Too late – we're completely in the dark here. We need to talk to the Prince as soon as we can – tomorrow."

Hermione gaped at him, suddenly feeling sick with nerves. "T-tomorrow?" she squeaked. "But – but – won't the post office be shut?"

"Don't worry, my dear Countess, it stays open quite late for express mail," Sirius said with a grin, blocking Hermione's attempt to delay.

"Bloody hell, Sirius, it'll take you ages to walk there now – it's pitch black!"

Sirius only grinned at Harry. "Why, my dear pronglet, who said anything about walking?"

And then he disappeared with a loud _crack_.

"Show off," Harry muttered, slightly jealous. Apparation was one of the few skills he had Hermione had not managed to learn, simply because if something went wrong then they wouldn't have access to magical aid to fix it.

Hermione didn't say anything, just stared at where Sirius had just been, feeling nervous, in more ways than one. Tomorrow was going to be a big, _big_ day.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Lady Lavender Brown tucked herself into one of the stone archways and sighed. She was not having a good day. First she had accidentally tripped up Lord Peters at breakfast and he had spilled eggs all down both himself and her new slippers. And then, joining some of her friends for tea in the gardens, Lady Parkinson had been most cruel about her new hairstyle. Lavender patted the twists in her hair self-consciously. She rather liked them. According to Lavender's new maid, who came all the way from Paris, it was what all the ladies were wearing there. '_Well, just she wait,_' Lavender thought, sulkily. '_It'll be all the rage in no time and _then_ who'll be the jealous one!_'

She had been so upset by Parkinson's nasty comments that she couldn't even pay her usual attention to the Court gossip, something she regretted now that she was bored.

To top it all off, Lord Longbottom ignored her at dinnertime. _Again_. She and he had had a rather wonderful tea just two weeks ago with his grandmother, the venerable Countess Augusta. Yet ever since, he seemed to have forgotten all about her and was always running off with the Princess.

Lavender curled up her nose at the thought of Ginevra. She had tried to make friends with the girl at Beauxbatons for there was only a year between them. But the Princess had rebuffed Lavender's every attempt at friendship, instead going off exploring the woods on her own and flying about on her dreadful broomstick.

'_What a strange angry little Princess she is,_' Lavender thought, not for the first time. '_And it is simply _not fair_; why should such an improper, wild girl manage to get a sweet, noble man like Lord Longbottom, even if she _is_ a Princess?'_

Lavender watched the flowers with a grumpy expression. Other Ladies were always conspiring against her. Last summer she had been growing very close to Prince Ronald himself and was waiting for a marriage proposal any day when it had all fallen apart. She didn't quite know what had happened. One day she suddenly stopped seeing him around the Court; wherever Lavender was, it seemed that Ron was not. Lavender suspected that someone had grown jealous of their growing love and had contrived, somehow, to separate them. Now she only ever caught a glimpse of her beloved from a distance and he always looked so lonely that her heart fair panged for him.

'_Oh, dear Ronald,'_ she thought unhappily. '_If only you could find your way back to me… then you would be happy again!_'

And then, suddenly, there he was.

He appeared so suddenly and just as she had pictured him that Lavender, for one moment, thought that she imagined him! And then her vision bowed awkwardly to her, just as she remembered, and said quite clearly, "Lady Lavender, may I ask of you a favour."

'_Oh sweet apples,'_ Lavender squealed mentally as the knut dropped, '_It really _is_ him!_'

She surged to her feet, suddenly realising that she was still lounging about on her seat. "Prince Ronald," she sighed breathily, "I would do anything for you. Command me, my Prince!"

Ronald looked extremely taken aback at that and slightly uncomfortable. "Er, right. Great. Um, what I wanted to know was…"

'_Will you take my hand in marriage?'_ Lavender crossed her fingers behind her back as Ron paused.

"… have you ever heard of Countess Lily Ravenclaw?" he finished, looking at her hopefully.

Lavender found all her dreams dashed. "No," she said, adding before she could stop herself "Who is _she_?"

Ron looked disappointed and even more uncomfortable than before. "She's just a Lady that Ginny and I, er, met the other day. We forgot to ask her who she was staying with. I thought you might know – you know _everything_ that goes on here, after all," he finished, with an awkward but hopeful smile.

Lavender felt her heart begin to melt when she saw it and cursed herself for a fool. '_Why, oh _why_, didn't I listen to the others at Tea?_' she wailed mentally. What if they had said something about Countess Ravenclaw and she'd missed it in her temper? '_Damn that horrid Parkinson!_' Now she had nothing to tell her poor Prince!

"I'm so sorry, Your Highness," Lavender said, genuinely sorrowful. "But please, Sire, let me ask around for you and see what I can find out!"

Prince Ronald gave her such a genuine smile then that Lavender found herself weak at the knees and had to hold onto the archway so she didn't fall. "Thanks, Lady Lavender – that's brilliant! I'll come by and see you tomorrow?"

Lavender clutched harder at the wall. "Oh, Your Highness, that would be so utterly wonderful of you," she gasped happily.

Ronald, bless him, looked alarmed once more. "I'll, er, see you tomorrow then?" he muttered awkwardly before heading off in the other direction as quickly as he could.

Lavender watched him go with mixed feelings. Near a year of silence and then a whole conversation – with promise of another tomorrow! She was so giddy that she had to sit down for fear she'd fall.

'_I will talk to Lady Alicia,_' she thought, planning her gossip gathering like a military battle plan. '_And then Baroness Carroll…'_ She supposed she would have to speak to Lady Parkinson, as well. '_She mayn't be the nicest person at Court, but she has got sharp ears for gossip.'_

Busily planning, Lavender got to her feet, all thoughts of self-pity banished as she considered how to fulfil the task her Prince had set her. And if the thought occurred to her that he was asking her to find out information about a noble he wanted to court she pushed it firmly out of the way.

Lavender, after all, liked to live in her own fantasies.

_~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

**Authors Notes:**

As with earlier chapters, the essence of some of this conversation is taken from the film, sometimes directly. I hope you like Fenrir as a suitably creepy substitute for Monsieur Le Pieu :) The action should be picking up from now on so the chapters may get shorter as I have to do less background work. Yay! Getting excited now!

Some of you in reviews mentioned you thought the Ginny/Harry side would be developing quicker than it has. I can only apologise for that but it's how the story works. Ron has a reason to notice Hermione whereas Ginny isn't at all used to looking seriously at anyone that isn't a noble. She _has_ noticed Harry but is not used to thinking of a servant in any other way. Just be patient

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	13. Chapter 12: Books

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** - '_blah_' = thoughts

- Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**Chapter Twelve: Books**

Ginny lay on her bed, stared at the ceiling and tried her hardest not to cry.

She hated crying. It never did her any good, just made her blotchy eyed and gave her a headache. It also meant that everyone could tell she had been crying and she hated that even more.

"Why are you crying, Princess?" they would say and then snigger behind her back.

She hated Court. Hated it! Why the hell couldn't she cry her eyes out if she wanted? Why couldn't she rage and scream, yell and curse in her rooms without being taken out of the palace? She scowled up at the ceiling, because it was easier to deal with anger than the despair she currently felt.

Yesterday she had felt so thankful for that stupid chicken, even if it did mean she couldn't speak to Dursley's servants. The maid she wanted obviously wasn't there, anyhow, so she doubted it made any difference. But when they had eventually gotten back to the palace Dursley had immediately ordered for her carriage to be brought round.

Ginny was so gleeful at the idea they would be leaving that she hardly heard a word Dursley had said at that, only just remembering to curtsy. Not only would she be rid of that stupid git and his awful aunt but she would _finally_ have some free time to find a way out of the marriage.

She had spent the afternoon watching from the tower overlooking the main Courtyard, trying to decide which nobleman to approach and calling for iced pumpkin juice to be brought whenever she got too hot.

It had started out a much better afternoon than the morning. Her spirits had been lifted by her unexpected freedom and the sight, of course, of Dursley and Potter being squished as Ron was attacked by a chicken. However, the shadows grew longer and longer and Ginny had grown more and more desperate.

'_This is stupid,_' she told herself angrily as she had dismissed another noble candidate for no real reason. '_You said it yourself; anyone, _ANY bloody one,_ is better than Potter… if I just pick randomly from a list of names then that will do the trick._'

But she couldn't do it.

This was marriage – the _rest of her life_. Someone she would see every day, talk to every morning, share her bed at night… she shuddered. She wasn't like her parents, coolly assigning some random noble to be her lifetime companion. She couldn't just pick someone and hope for the best. She wanted someone to woo her, court her… someone who would love her _before_ asking her to marry him, not someone who _may_ eventually fall in love with her after a year of being her husband.

'_And,_' Ginny thought, '_I want someone _I_ love, too._'

Once that thought had occurred to her all was hopeless. This was impossible – she had had it right the first time. She couldn't find someone to love her within two days… and even if she could, she didn't think _she_ could find someone _she_ loved in ten times that long. Equally, she couldn't think of a single way to get out of this marriage.

The thought of running away again _had_ crossed her mind a few times but a quick cursory investigation into all avenues of escape had quickly crushed that idea.

So now Ginny laid there, completely despondent and battling tears.

'_I wish I'd never become a Princess…_'

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Ron, on the over hand, was near to dancing with joy. In fact, when he had first received the owl late last night, he had leaped around his room ecstatically until he had tripped over a stool and almost knocked himself out.

It was quite a short letter and Ron had reread it so many times that the simple parchment was beginning to wear. It read;

_Your Highness, Prince Ronald,_

_ I hope you do not find this letter too presumptuous – we have only known each for a few days after all! – but I was wondering if you would be free to spend some time with me tomorrow? I find myself missing your company._

_ If you are free, I would be honoured by your presence at the Whomping Willow at half nine of the clock tomorrow. I will wait for you._

_Yours,_

_Countess Ravenclaw_

Although there were many aspects of the short letter that excited him, his eyes kept being drawn to that one little word above her signature… 'Yours'. If he were a girl then he'd no doubt be squealing or whatever it was that girls did when they got excited. Probably pass out like Lady Lavender.

'_Well at least I'm not going have to talk to _her_ this evening,_' he thought with considerable relief. He'd thought Lavender was going to launch herself at him at one point. Lucky escape, he thought, before his mind moved on from poor Lavender and back to Lily.

"Ginny! Ginny, you won't believe what's happened!" he called excitedly, bursting into her sitting room before stopping in horror.

Ginny looked up at him from where she was crying on a couch, Lady Luna one arm round in her in support. Ron felt immediately awkward… crying girls completely mystified him, even when they were his sister. _Especially _when they were his sister.

Luna smiled dreamily at Ron. "There are rain clouds in Ginevra's windows," she told the uneasy prince knowingly. "She can't see the sun at all, poor thing. She needs good strong wind to blow them away."

Uncomfortable as he was, it was all Ron could do not to snigger at that one. "Ginny needs wind?" he repeated, trying to keep a straight face.

"Shut up, Ron," Ginny said, although it was weary and not at all like her usual snappy self. She pulled herself out of Luna's awkward embrace. "What do you want?"

Ron almost didn't want to tell her. She was obviously so upset that it would almost seem like gloating. "I got a letter from the Countess," he said eventually, holding it out for her. "She wants to meet me today."

"Oh." Ginny tried to smile at him but it looked more like a grimace of pain. "That's nice – I'm glad you've found a way out of this at least, Ron," she added, although she didn't look glad. In fact, she looked even more miserable than before.

"Hey, do you want to come?" Ron asked suddenly before he could stop himself. '_Idiot!_' he thought, '_What did you do that for?'_

But when Ginny looked up and said, "Really?" she looked so hopeful and pathetic that he didn't have the heart to change his mind. He'd be a right git if he did that to her now and, even though it was his job to be a bit of a git sometimes to his siblings, he wasn't _that_ mean.

"Yeah, sure," he said and was utterly shocked by the massive bear hug Ginny gave him. "Um, there, there," he said, awkwardly patting her back and shooting desperate looks at Luna. She, of course, ignored him and gazed out of the window, humming.

"Thanks, Ron," Ginny said quietly when she withdrew from his grasp. "I don't know what I would have done if I'd had to be cooped up here all day. Probably end up murdering Potter," she joked weakly.

"Maybe I should let you stay then," Ron joked back. "Git could do with a bit of murdering to smarten him up."

Ginny laughed at that, even if it was a little wet. "Dursley is worse," she said. "But maybe Lily will have some ideas on what I can do about the whole mess."

"Well I think she's got to be the smartest witch I know," Ron said and immediately reddened as Ginny smirked at him.

"I'll change clothes," was all she said however and headed towards her dressing room. "Where are we going, by the way?"

"I thought I'd take her to Durmstrang," Ron said as she disappeared out of sight. "It's got the biggest library in the Kingdom, I think – well, it certainly seemed massive whenever I had to visit it."

"_You_ visit a library?" Ginny called out, already sounding much brighter. "Like that ever happened. What was it – a detention?"

"Anyway," Ron carried on loudly, "she seems to like reading, so I thought she'd love a chance to see the library."

There was a pause. "That's really sweet, Ron," Ginny said eventually. "Sweet _and_ thoughtful. Who knew?"

Ron didn't reply, just grinned at Ginny's approval of his plan. He'd secretly been a bit worried that it was a stupid idea. None of the palace noblewomen would have relished a visit to a fusty old library. But, of course, Countess Ravenclaw wasn't _like_ any of the palace women. That was one of the things he liked about her.

Still, it wasn't going to be easy to try and woo her under Ginny's critical, sniggering eye. He was uncertain and worried enough about it as it was without the potential for humiliation via sibling. But that was one of the things about feeling happy – it was hard to see other people miserable. He couldn't help wishing, however, that he'd knocked first and been told to 'bugger off'.

Suddenly, Ron was aware of a gentle humming noise. '_What the bloody hell… oh, it's just Luna,'_ he realised. And then an idea struck him.

"Hey – er, I mean, excuse me, Lady Luna?"

_~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

No one quite knew how the Whomping Willow had come to be in its grove, on the edge of the city limits. The two main schools of thought were that it was brought to the town many years ago by some long-forgotten foreign dignitary or that it had once been an ordinary willow that had been bewitched by some equally long-forgotten master of magic.

Alongside these two ideas ran the rumour that the Willow, backed against a large hill, guarded the entrance to a lair full of forgotten treasures. Over the years trying to duck and dodge your way past the interminably moving branches had become a sort of rite of passage amongst the local commoners. Some of the more fool-hardy nobles had even been known to try.

Hermione watched the limbs flail about chaotically and thought that they rather perfectly symbolised the chaos of her life right now.

'_I can't believe it's already been a week since this chaos all started,_' she thought. '_Back then I was just worried about getting all the laundry done and about poor Remus… and now I'm preparing to confide in a Prince!_'

It had been a bit of frantic morning. Although early risings were never Hermione's problems she had had to run down to Arabella and wake her, sorting out another outfit fit for Countess Lily Ravenclaw. The old lady had been slow to wake but moved surprisingly quickly once she realised what Hermione had needed.

When she had seen herself in the mirror most of Hermione's nerves had vanished. The silvery-blue dress, elegant hair do and small jewelled headdress cloaked the nervous servant Hermione Granger, once again leaving behind Countess Ravenclaw.

Harry's face had been a picture when he saw her. "Hermione, you look beautiful!" he cried, whirling her around. "And it's not just the dress," he added, squinting at her. "You look… I don't know… more like yourself."

Hermionehad laughed at that. "Like Countess Ravenclaw, you mean," she corrected.

But Harry didn't laugh. "No, that's not what I mean," he said, completely serious. "You look strong, beautiful and confident, like the _real_ Hermione – the person you _should _be if there weren't any Malfoys or Dursleys in the world."

Hermione didn't have a clue what to say to that. Luckily Harry didn't seem to need a reply. He just squeezed her hand and then stepped back, playing the role of faithful servant once more.

As Hermione waited for Ronald she thought about what Harry had said. At first she thought it ridiculous; if the Malfoys and Dursleys had never existed then she would still have been a peasant, not graced with the clothes of a Courtier. But Harry, she soon realised, had struck a good point. The Malfoy's policy on magical servants had caused her heart-ache and betrayal as her parents abandoned her. She had found it nearly impossible to trust anyone for a long time after. And the Dursleys, although not causing her such heartache, wore down at her every day, niggling away at her self-esteem, her confidence.

Putting on the Countess' clothes seemed to lift away all those nagging doubts and Harry was right; she _did_ feel like her real self.

Hermione looked sidelong at Harry, stood next to her a little way back. She wondered if he ever felt like the _real_ Harry, like playing the Countess did for her. She doubted it. Although their backgrounds were vastly different, his life too had featured betrayal by his family, heartache and repeated self-doubts. She shuddered to think how different he would be if he had not had Sirius and Remus there to protect and love him. He would have been nothing but a shadow.

"He's coming!" Harry hissed suddenly and Hermione jumped, her head swivelling to look down the road. To her surprise she did not see the lonely horse and rider that she had envisioned but rather a hefty carriage, guarded by two purple-robed aurors.

As the entourage came to a stop in front of the astonished Hermione, Prince Ronald popped open the door of the carriage and leapt out, disgruntled expression on his face. Upon catching sight of Hermione, though, this immediately turned into such a big smile that she blushed straight away.

"Your Highness," she said, curtsying to him. "I am so glad you came because there was something I wished to – oh!" Hermione stopped, suddenly realising the need for a carriage as another person climbed out of the carriage. "Princess Ginevra!"

"Thanks, brother dear," she grumbled, glaring at him, "for your gentlemanly hand down from the carriage."

"Well, I _told_ you that we would only be stopping a moment," he snapped back. "I don't see why you had to come out at all."

"It's stuffy in there!"

Brother and sister glared at each other. Hermione cleared her throat lightly and the two looked over at her, the Prince turning red again.

"I hope you don't mind my inviting Ginevra along," Ronald said nervously. "She's been having some problems with – "

"_What_, my dear brother means is, that I would like to ask your advice about something later on, if that's convenient," Ginevra interrupted, sending an embarrassed glare at her brother.

"I would be honoured, Your Highness," Hermione curtsied, feeling both flattered and panicked at the request.

"Thank you, Countess," Ginny said, smiling at her with such gratitude that Hermione suspected the matter at hand was very important to her.

"Anyway, Countess," Ronald said, "you didn't specify anything in particular in your letter so, I hope you don't mind, but I have arranged for us to go to Durmstrang. They have a massive library and I thought, since you are so fond of reading, that you…er, might join me?"

He finished looking at her apprehensively but Hermione couldn't see it; all she could see were rows and rows of precious books. "Oh, Your Highness, really?" she exclaimed, fighting the urge to envelop him in a massive hug. She had always longed to somehow sneak her way into the libraries of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons but it had always been an impossible dream. '_All those books,_' she thought, half-giddy.

"Yes, really," he confirmed, looking both bemused at her reaction and highly pleased. She felt a sudden rush of affection for him – how could he know her so well after just two encounters?

"It's not fair, Your Highness," she told him, still beaming. "You've found _my_ weakness, but I haven't found yours."

Ronald went bright red at that whilst Ginevra laughed. "Oh my dear Countess," she sniggered, "_that_ is pretty obvious."

Now it was Hermione's turn to go bright red. "Coming?" Ronald asked, holding out a hand to her. As she reached out her hand, however, she caught sight of movement in the corner of her eye. '_Harry!_' she thought, suddenly ashamed how quickly she'd completely forgotten about their plan in light of new old books. '_Some friend _I_ am,_' she thought, although she couldn't help the disappointment that rose.

Turning back to her 'servant', however, she saw that he was making little shooing motions with his hands. Did Harry want her to go?

Then she saw the same hint of longing in his eyes and realised that he, too, had been quite desperate to see Durmstrang all his life, although for quite different reasons. It was where his father and Sirius had first met and Sirius was always filling their heads with tales of their time there.

'_Why shouldn't we see it?_' Hermione thought defiantly, smiling at Harry and giving a tiny nod to show he understood. '_After all, Durmstrang is as good a place as any to tell-all to the Prince and Princess. Better, even, because I'm pretty sure Petunia can't worm her way in _there_ to catch us out!_'

Turning back to Ronald, who was beginning to look a little bit puzzled, she asked him where her servant could sit. Ron blinked but had clearly learnt _something_ for he didn't protest. He indicated to Harry that he could sit at the front with the driver, even remembering Harry's pseudonym.

"Thank you, Your Highness," said Hermione gratefully as Harry was settled. Ginevra had clambered back into the carriage and Ronald was waiting to help her inside.

"My friends call me Ron," he said, going red again.

'_I really must look up an anti-blushing spell at the library,_' Hermione thought, as her traitorous cheeks flared up for the fiftieth time that day. "Then you must call me H-Lily," she told him softly, hoping he didn't notice her slip up.

He hadn't. "Lily," he repeated, smiling at her.

How long they stood there, staring at each other like idiots, Hermione didn't know, but it was long enough for Ginevra to shout down at them, "Hurry up, Ron! The sooner you get in this stupid thing the sooner I can get out again!"

They both jumped and Hermione, horribly embarrassed, scrambled inside the carriage in a way that was not at all ladylike or graceful. Ron scurried after her just as quickly and she could feel the heat from his face from where he sat across her.

In fact, she was so aware of his presence that she didn't realise for quite some time that there was a fourth person in the carriage with them. "Oh! Hello, Lady Luna," she rushed when she saw the golden haired noble looking at her.

Or she _thought_ she was looking at her.

"Hello, Lily," she responded informally. Then she leant forward in her seat and, whispering in a voice that was not at all quiet, she said, "I think Ron may be in danger of SOMETHING!"

As Ron choked and Ginny tried desperately to smother her laughs, Hermione began to think quite desperately of that library and, most specifically, that potential spell on preventing blushing.

It was going to be a very long journey.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Countess Lily's reaction was better than he could have hoped for.

He had almost immediately regretted inviting Luna along to be Ginny's companion because he'd forgotten that it meant he would have to listen to her for the whole of the journey to Durmstrang. Whilst he was beginning to like the strange little witch, he could handle her a lot better if there was always an avenue of escape nearby. Cooped up in an increasingly stuffy carriage whilst she prattled on about how Baron Fudge was in cahoots with goblins was enough to drive a person barmy.

But once they were out into the open air, looking at the imposing structure of Durmstrang Castle, then everything seemed to get much better. Lily and her servant, Gryffindor, had both stared in amazement at the magnificent sight and even Luna had managed to focus her gaze on it for once.

As they were given a tour by the bowing Headmaster, Ginny dropped back with Luna, just as planned, Gryffindor even consenting to walk behind them. He had gotten Lily on her own!

And then, here they were, in the library and all the misery of the last hour was forgotten as he saw her delighted face, staring round in complete admiration and happiness. This made everything worthwhile.

"I feel I could cry," she told him softly, reverently running a finger down the spine of an old leather bound encyclopaedia.

Ron gazed at her, shocked at how happy he too felt. Ordinarily the sight of so many books would fill him with dread but to see her face light up… Before Ron had become a Prince of the realm he had been just another noble, born into a large and loving but poor family. Ron's memories of those times were hazy, vague impressions; Ginny had none at all. What Ron did remember, however, was the chaotic period of change when suddenly they had moved into the palace and been given everything he had ever wanted as a child but that his parents couldn't afford. Ever since then Ron had always looked on getting a present as the highlight of birthdays, Christmases and various royal occasions.

Now he suddenly understood why everyone talked about how much pleasure there was in _giving_ gifts. He'd always thought such people were either barmy or stuck up do-gooders. If you got a gift then you'd gained something at no trouble to yourself. If you gave a gift then you dished out a load of galleons and got nothing in return.

'_Someone could give me all the galleons in the world,_' Ron thought, watching the delighted Countess with mesmerised eyes, '_and it wouldn't make me as happy as I am right now. And then I'd spend all those galleons building her a library of her own just to see her so joyful again._'

It was a most un-Ron-like thought but he didn't care. He just wanted to give her anything she wanted. "You should pick one," he told her. "I'm sure the librarian will let you borrow one."

He hadn't thought she could get any more ecstatic. He was wrong.

"Pick one?" she asked, laughing disbelievingly. "There's so many… it would be easier to pick a favourite star from the sky!"

"What do you like so much about books?" Ron asked. It was part honest curiosity and part amazement. For him books were long, dreary pages of tiny script that more often than not made no sense whatsoever.

Lily frowned as though she had never considered the questions. "I guess… there was a time in my life when I had nothing," she started. "My parents had… died and I felt abandoned by everyone. Then someone, a sort of uncle, came into my life and introduced me to books. My parents had been quite neglectful, you see," she added hastily, "and hadn't taught me to read or write.

"I hated them – and him – at first, but he didn't let me give up. He would stay up late and read to me, slowly making me feel as though I could trust the world again. I would fall asleep listening to him most nights."

"What sort of books?" Ron asked, fascinated by the different emotions that had flitted across her face.

"Science," Lily shrugged, smiling, "philosophy, magic… he was addicted to learning anything he could and shared it with me. _Utopia_ was the first book I ever read completely on my own."

"I guess that explains why you quote it," Ron said quietly, feeling a sudden sadness loom inside.

"It's not just that," Lily said, shaking her head. "The message of equality and harmony… sometimes I still feel like it's missing in my life. I want to find it and hold onto it." There was a pause and then she said quietly, "Is something wrong?"

"No," Ron said automatically. Then he realised Lily had opened herself up to him – the least he could do was do the same. "Yes," he said suddenly. "I've never… the passion – no, the _conviction_ – you have from just one memory… I don't think I've ever felt that way my whole life. I just wander from moment to moment, never really involving myself… what kind of a Prince am I? There is more life and fire in you in that one memory than I have in my little finger!"

Lily looked at him anxiously. "Your Highness," she said timidly, "if there is anything I have said – "

"No!" Ron said quickly. "No, don't. It's not you."

'_It's me_,' he thought, sadly.

And he wondered how he could be so high one moment and then come crashing down the next.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Ginny sneaked a glance round the book shelves to see Countess Lily wandering around in a happy daze, her brother following her around like a devoted, little lamb. She tried not to giggle at his ridiculous puppy dog expression but a snort still escaped. _'Well at least one of us will end up happily ever after._'

She tried not to feel too resentful of Ron's attention of Countess Lily but it was hard when she was desperate for the other girl's advice. A day away from the palace confines – and hideous Potter – had buoyed her spirits somewhat though and she was enjoying comparing forbidding Durmstrang with the ornamental Beauxbatons.

"Let's leave the library," she said to Luna, turning away from her brother and Lily. "I feel like some sunshine."

"That's very wise, Ginny," Luna said sagely. "If your head is full of books then where will life fit in?"

Luna had been an unexpected blessing. If Ginny had been alone with the other two… well, either way one of the royal siblings would have been resentful with poor Lily stuck in the middle. Now she could wander the castle, laughing at Luna's odd comments and look forward to some good, practical advice.

There was, however, a downside.

James Gryffindor.

It was stupid, Ginny told herself over and over, to be bothered by the servant's presence. He was _just_ a servant after all, but it was as though every nerve in her body was tuned to his presence. Even when she was talking to Luna her back tingled as though his very gaze was affecting her. That, of course, was ridiculous. She was just uncomfortable because he had beaten her at Quidditch. Although it wasn't as if he was gloating, teasing her about it – on the contrary, he had been perfectly silent and respectful all afternoon.

Ginny rather thought that bothered her more.

"Ah! Princess Ginevra! Luna!"

As they stepped out onto one of the balconies Ginny looked around to find Master Dumbledore striding towards them, a twinkle in his eye. As she curtsied – and Luna performed her apparently routine leaping hug – Ginny tried to sort out her suddenly complicated feelings towards him. True, he had managed to talk her parents into a compromise, but it wasn't a very good one. And, Ginny suspected, if he had never mentioned his belief in the tremendous power of love then this ordeal would be a whole lot easier for her. She would have simply picked out her prospective fiancée from her tower as she had tried to do last night. Instead, she found herself dismissing nobleman after nobleman, who were probably perfectly lovely and decent gentlemen and a thousand times better than her 'fiancée', because she didn't love them.

As she regarded him, trying to untangle her thoughts, his smile grew even wider as though he knew exactly what she was thinking. "It is a difficult path your parents have given you, Princess," he told her quietly. "Difficult, but not impossible."

Ginny lost control of her temper then. "'Not impossible'?" she repeated, angrily. "You _are_ joking?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Life throws at you only what you can handle," he told her simply. "Sometimes it might not seem that way, but you just need to be strong. And open your eyes a bit more."

"To what?" Ginny wanted to ask, but found that she was close to crying again. She looked away.

"This is the lightning bearer, Uncle," Luna said, besides her. "Lightning-bearer, this is my Uncle."

There was a slight pause and then Dumbledore gave a merry laugh. Ginny, eyes under control, turned back to see an amused looking Dumbledore shake hands with an awkward looking Gryffindor. "Looks like we shall have to introduce each other," he said. "Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore, Uncle of Luna."

"James Gryffindor," Gryffindor said, grin slowly forming. "Lightning-bearer. Apparently."

Dumbledore smiled. "My dear niece may not conform to convention but she is never wrong. You, my boy, are a lightning bearer."

Gryffindor said nothing, perhaps waiting politely for Dumbledore to explain. Ginny, however, was not inclined to be polite. "And what exactly _is_ a lightning bearer?"

"They bring the lightning," Luna said happily, staring at Gryffindor with an intensity that Ginny was rather stupidly pleased to see made him uncomfortable. "In all the rain, thunder, wind and storm, the lightning bearer brings the light. He helps everyone to see the way out."

Ginny was not much clearer on what a lightning bearer was then she had been before that 'explanation'. Gryffindor however, she was interested to see, had stiffened up and was staring back at Dumbledore in great thought.

"What are you doing at Durmstrang, Master Dumbledore?" Gryffindor asked politely.

"Oh, just pottering here and there, making a nuisance of myself," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. "I've been asked to take over as Headmaster here but I don't think Durmstrang is the place for me. I spent too long wandering the world and I think the traditions of Durmstrang, fine institution though it is, would not sit well with me. In fact," he added, "I don't think they sat with me particularly well when I was a student here. I seem to recall setting fire to my dormitory once or twice."

Ginny laughed. With his long beard and flowing white hair she couldn't imagine Dumbledore as a young boy. She could, however, quite easily imagine him breaking a few rules. That twinkle just screamed of mischief. She had been just as blasé about rules when she had been ensconced at Beauxbatons.

It took Ginny a split second to realise that she wasn't the only one laughing – Gryffindor was chuckling along as well. "I once inflated my aunt up like a great balloon," he admitted, smiling. "She was nearly over the English Channel before Si- someone managed to rescue and deflate her."

"You blew up your aunt?" Ginny said, not sure whether to be impressed or alarmed. She had a great aunt Muriel that she wouldn't mind seeing floating off into France but she was pretty sure that her mother would kill her if that happened.

"Not on purpose," Gryffindor protested before he realised who he was speaking to. "Your Highness," he added, a little pink. As he switched his attention to her fully Ginny was annoyed to find herself going a little pink, too. '_Stupid, stupid_,' she told herself but her cheeks weren't obeying her silent commands. "It was accidental magic. I got beaten black and blue for it, mind, but it was worth it." His eyes went a little misty. "It was a beautiful sight…"

Ginny stared at him in astonishment even as she couldn't help laughing. '_He wins at Quidditch, is a 'lightning bearer', converses easily with Royals and even manages a few jokes,_' she thought, completely mystified. '_Who exactly _is_ this servant?_'

"Master Dumbledore! What a pleasant surprise!"

Ginny turned around to see Ron and Lily walking out to join them, Lily clutching a rather large book to her chest with an expression of utmost bliss. Ron, although outwardly cheerful, seemed slightly thoughtful which surprised Ginny. If she'd been lucky enough to be falling head over heels in love then she would be shouting about it from Durmstrang's rooftops.

"Master Dumbledore, may I present Countess Lily Ravenclaw?" Ron said proudly, beaming at Lily. "Lily, this is Albus – "

" – Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore," Lily finished, eyes almost dancing she was so excited. "Discoverer of the 12 uses of dragon's blood, defeated Grindelwald, not to mention your work on alchemy… Master Dumbledore, I am _honoured_."

Dumbledore beamed at her as he shook her hand. "A scholar," he commented lightly. "Not what I would expect from your title, Countess."

Lily blushed. "Well, I'm not one for sitting around doing embroidery," she confessed. "Ever since I started reading and realised they were so much about the world I didn't know I haven't been able to stop searching. I found your work on the possibility of creating a Philosophers Stone with Monsieur Flamel extremely interesting."

Dumbledore's smile increased ten-fold. "You understood it?" he asked, delighted. "Most scholars I talk to get too caught up in the intricacies of the arithmancy involved – puts them right off."

Lily laughed. "Actually, that was my favourite part – especially the intricacies of calculating the exact moment of astrological convergent that would enable the best chance of the potion working. I must confess to having a go myself before looking at your calculations," she added, embarrassed.

"How did you find it?"

"Not too bad, although I forgot to account for the transit of Venus across Mercury."

"That _is_ a tricky conjunction; just one misstep and hours of work are wasted."

"Well – "

"I hate to interrupt, but we really must head back to town," Ginny said eventually, getting dizzy from the two of them seemingly speak another language. Ron had gone completely glaze-eyed at that point, but Gryffindor was watching his mistress with a mixture of happiness and pride. Luna, of course, always looked as though she were a million miles away.

Both Lily and Dumbledore jumped, as though surprised other people were in existence. "Oh, of course, Your Highness," Lily said, going a bit red. "I got a bit carried away."

"Really, I couldn't tell?" Ginny drawled with a grin. How such an obviously intelligent young noble ended up with her daft brother was completely beyond Ginny. She turned to Master Dumbledore and curtsied to him. "A pleasure once again, Master Dumbledore."

"Ah no, Your Highness, the pleasure was all mine," Dumbledore said, eyes curiously flicking to Gryffindor before they turned back to her own. "And remember, Princess; open your eyes and your path will become easier."

Ginny went red as the others stared at her in confusion, her previously forgotten worries rushing back in a flood. She instantly felt heavier, as though a great weight had suddenly been placed round her shoulders. "Right, thanks," she said rather shortly, abruptly leaving for the carriage without waiting for the others.

As she almost stomped her way back, Ginny's mind was a roar of blank whiteness. Every time she tried to think about what Dumbledore might possibly mean it was as if she had struck a stone wall. '_Open my eyes?_' she thought, exasperated. '_What's _that_ supposed to mean? Is it meant to mean Potter isn't that bad?_' She gave a derisive snort. Not bloody likely.

She could feel herself beginning to fall back into a sulk and she tried to fight it off. She'd had a surprisingly nice day at the school and she still had an hour's stuffy journey back to the palace. She didn't want to ruin everyone else's good mood by snapping at them all.

As she reached the carriage door it swung open for her and she stared as Gryffindor held out his hand. Pausing only momentarily, she clasped his hand as he helped her into the carriage, shooting her a small, sympathetic smile before he disappeared from view.

Ginny would have thought she'd imagined it but for the fact her hand still tingled with warmth from where she'd held onto him. '_He must have run all the way to get here in front of me,_' she thought, wonderingly. And she hadn't seen him, either, which suggested he'd skirted round the forest. '_Who _is_ this James Gryffindor?_'

So when the others, fearing to find a short tempered Ginny when they arrived at the carriage, were pleasantly surprised when they found instead only a quiet, thoughtful one.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

**Author's Notes:**

Ron/Hermione definitely coming more into play now and hints of Ginny/Harry will build. I'm definitely looking forward to the next two chapters as they cover my favourite scenes in the film :D

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	14. Chapter 13: Trees

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** - '_blah_' = thoughts

- Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**A/N:** This chapter is coming out a little early (like 4 days!) as I'm going to the Edinburgh Snowball this weekend so can't post. Please enjoy (especially as it's all you're getting for a week and a half!) - this is one of my favourite chapters so far :)

**.**

**Chapter Thirteen: Trees**

"Well _this_ is bloody embarrassing."

Prince Ronald stared at the offending wheel as though he couldn't quite believe it.

Harry, rubbing his bruised head, could quite well believe it. Sitting on top of the carriage as he had, when the wheel had broken whilst going over a rut he had been jolted right off the carriage and into a nearby tree.

"We'll head back to Durmstrang immediately, Your Highness," the driver said, looking completely mortified.

Harry and Hermione exchanged worried glances at that. "Can't it just be fixed with a few spells?" she asked.

But Ronald and Ginevra were shaking their heads. "Royal carriages are bewitched to be immune to enchantment of any kind," the Princess explained. "Useful when you're under attack but a bloody pain when something breaks."

Harry was even more alarmed at that. No magic meant they couldn't even use levitation or featherweight charms to speed up the journey back to the castle. Who knew how long it would take them and then what if there wasn't another carriage available? They could even end up having to stay the night!

The Dursleys weren't complete idiots. They may have missed Hermione's increasingly frequent absences so far but eventually they would start to wonder where she was. After Remus' warning last night neither was willing to draw Petunia's attention any more than necessary.

"Well it's a lovely afternoon, Your Highness," Hermione said brightly after a short pause. "We shall continue on foot."

Prince and Princess had never looked so horrified. "But – it's a 2 hour walk!" Ronald protested, going green at the mere thought.

'_True, but it would take us at least half that to just get the carriage back to the Castle and then who knows how long that simpering fool of a Headmaster would faff about for,_' Harry thought, feeling a resurgence of dislike for the oily headmaster. Professor Karakaroff had been perfectly polite but the way he had fawned over the two royals disgusted Harry.

"Honestly, Your Highness," teased Hermione, already beginning to walk away, "where's your sense of adventure?"

Ron stared open-mouthed at her before scrambling to catch her up. "Lily, wait for me!"

"Well, I suppose that's decided then," Ginevra commented with a sigh. "Take the carriage back to Durmstrang," she ordered. "Looks like we'll be walking the rest of the way."

"But Your Highness!" the driver protested, upset, but Ginevra waved him off. "Come on, Luna."

As she and Lady Luna walked after Hermione and Ronald, Harry gave the driver, Laurence, a reassuring smile. "Don't worry," he told him, "I'll make sure they get back to the palace ok."

But Laurence shook his head. "You don't understand," he said fearfully. "There are supposed to be Death Eaters in these woods. It's why I was moving a little faster and missed the rut. It isn't safe."

'_Oh Merlin,_' Harry thought, feeling a new kind of worry worm its way up into his stomach. '_Maybe this isn't such a good idea after all._' But as he turned to look for them Ronald and Hermione were already out of sight. '_It's too late now, damn it._'

'_Besides_,' Harry thought, trying to ignore the anxiety he felt, '_we're all of us witches and wizards. We should be able to fend off an attack._' When he told Laurence as much the other man's expression turned into one of relief and he left quite happily after that. Harry walked to catch up with the royal party, wishing he feel the same relief as Laurence did.

'_Merlin's balls,_' Harry remembered with a jolt, '_I don't have a wand!_'

He'd almost cried when Hermione had given him the splinters of James' old wand, broken right in front of his face by that bastard guard. He'd always felt such a strong connection to his father when using it and now that, too, had been taking away from him. Just like nearly everything else.

'_This is no time for self-pity,_' Harry told himself firmly, pushing those thoughts aside. '_Not now it's just four wands against any possible threat – I'm as good as useless._'

So, he thought suddenly, were Ginevra and Luna. He didn't know what sort of magical program Beauxbatons had but he doubted it included extensive coverage of magical jinxes and curses. Ginny seemed like she might know a few jinxes - especially if Ronald's complaints were anything to go by - but he doubted it was anything with serious fire power. And as for Luna…

'_This _really_ wasn't a good idea,_' Harry thought. All their defensive hopes now rested solely on just Ronald and Hermione. Hermione knew more spells than anyone Harry knew and he was willing to bet that whatever Beauxbatons taught, Durmstrang offered a large range of attack spells on its magical syllabus. However he was also willing to be that Ronald had never had to use such skills outside an official duel. Hermione hadn't even had that.

By this point, Harry had managed to work himself up into a slight state of panic. Every crack of a branch was a Death Eater lurking… every disturbed pebble evidence of an impending ambush… Turning to walk backwards, making sure no outlaw could catch them unawares, Harry winced at how loud Ronald and Hermione's conversation sounded in the quiet forest.

'_Gotta keep vigilant, must keep an eye out…_'

"Are you alright, Gryffindor?"

Harry swore as he jumped, a spell half on his lips as he turned to face a very surprised looking Princess. As she raised an eyebrow at him, he hurriedly dropped his wand arm, embarrassed to find that he had been pointing it at her automatically despite the lack of wand. "I'm so sorry, Your Highness," he said, ducking his head into a bow and, annoyingly, going bright red. "You, er, startled me."

"Yes… Er, sorry about that," she replied, awkwardly.

Harry looked up at her then, surprised to hear her apologising. '_I'm just the servant, why does she need to apologise to me?'_ Maybe Hermione's attitude was rubbing off on her? "Do you or Lady Luna require my assistance, Princess?"

Ginevra shot a wry grin over her shoulder. Following her gaze, Harry saw Luna skipping along quite merrily, flowers already adorning her hair. The collection was all the more impressive considering that Harry hadn't seen any flowers. "I think she's quite happy by herself for the time being," she said, turning back to him. Her expression immediately went awkward again. "Actually, Gryffindor, I just wanted to, er, talk to you."

'_Merlin, Hermione really _is_ rubbing off on her!_' "Talk?" he repeated, incredulous.

Ginevra shifted. "It's just you're really weird," she explained, going pink as she belatedly realised how that had sounded. "I meant… It's just I've never met – "

"A servant like me before?" Harry finished, starting to smile. As she nodded, he pondered her carefully. Although the Princess still looked slightly embarrassed, she was staring at him with a hint of defiance in her brown eyes. Harry wasn't quite sure why but he could take a guess; talking to servants wasn't exactly a 'done thing', least of all for a Princess. But then neither were they supposed to play quidditch or jinx their brothers and it was clear that Ginevra did both. She was probably told every day by some pompous old courtier that she shouldn't be doing this that or the other and was sick of it.

Harry wasn't the usual sort of noble either, though, and he rather thought he much preferred someone who was intelligent, quick witted and daring over a bland, boring, pretty sheep any day.

Not that Ginevra wasn't pretty. She was. Beautiful, actually, with the long, tumbling red curls and wide brown eyes. Her pale skin only emphasised her lips and the way her mouth quirked up to one side when she thought someone was being an idiot (Ronald, usually). And the way his hand had tingled after he had helped her into the carriage…

Harry gave himself a little shake. He couldn't be distracted like this, not when she was watching him expectantly with those same brown eyes, now getting more suspicious by the second. Ignoring the strange feeling in his stomach he turned his thoughts instead to how to answer her question. He didn't want to lie to her, but he also couldn't completely tell the truth. Feeling her impatience begin to rise he settled on a vague version of the truth.

"The family I serve," he said carefully, starting to walk after the other three again, "… well, they're different to most other nobles. We are all educated – taught to read, write and how to do mathematics. We talk about what's happening in the world and our opinions are listened to." He shrugged. "I don't know what other servants are treated like, but we're treated as human beings. It's as simple as that."

He looked quickly at her to see what her reaction would be. '_I should get used to being surprised,_' he thought, wryly, as Ginevra just frowned thoughtfully. He'd have thought she'd be outraged at his insinuation.

"You think servants aren't treated as people?" she said, eventually.

"Being a servant is just a job," Harry said, "but how often are we seen as anything else? We're defined by our… status, I guess you could call it. But that's not who we are – we're just the same as you and anyone else in the world. You just happened to be lucky enough to be born into privilege whilst we haven't."

The look Ginevra shot him was a very shrewd one then and she didn't say anything for quite a while. Harry himself was feeling oddly hopeful. Ginevra hadn't scoffed at his thoughts nor cried treason – yet. It wasn't much, but it was a promising beginning.

"You're _really_ just a servant?" she asked eventually, staring at him.

"I was raised as a servant, Your Highness," he said, not quite answering her question. He didn't want to lie completely to her now and ruin any groundwork he might have made. It was hard to keep calm though; the strength of that brown-eyed stare made him strangely nervous. "Just was luckier than most. Not the least because I turned out to be a wizard."

"How so?"

"Magical education is very expensive, Your Highness. Institutions such as Durmstrang and Beauxbatons are only for the nobility and only very affluent families can afford private tutors for their children that show the signs." He shrugged. "Having a witch or wizard in the family is nothing short of a curse for poor families. Generally they're thrown out onto the streets by their family or the family they serve before they hit thirteen. They either struggle along as best they can or…"

"Or they become Death Eaters," Ginevra said quietly.

Harry looked at her. "Yes," he agreed, impressed she made the connection. "But, like I said, I was lucky. I wasn't thrown out but was taught how to control my magic. I even had a wand before…" He trailed off, realising that he probably shouldn't bring up his 'criminal' past. One of the royals was finally listening to him; he didn't want to underline the fact that when the first met he was behind bars.

Ginevra, however, was not one to be put off. "Before what?"

Harry sighed. "Before I was thrown in jail," he said quietly, not looking at her.

There was another silence then, punctuated only by the crackle and snap of branches underfoot and the thin strains of Ronald and Hermione's conversation up ahead. Harry didn't quite dare look at Ginevra. _He_ knew he was innocent, but she didn't and he didn't think he could quite stand to see the coldness and disapproval that would undoubtedly be present in her eyes.

"I didn't realise that was you," she said eventually and Harry, shooting a quick look at her, was surprised to see she looked a little ashamed. The expression vanished so quickly though that he thought he must have imagined it. Then she asked the question he knew she would. "Why were you arrested?"

Harry grimaced. "It's… complicated," he said evasively. "I'm sure you hear it all the time but I _was_ innocent. I have some… relatives, distant ones, who don't, ah, like me very much. They paid some people off and contrived to have me arrested and deported." He couldn't help but shuddering. "I really hope they don't find out."

Ginevra stopped abruptly and turned to stare at him. "Really," she said, "who _are_ you? Why would anyone go to that much trouble over a servant? You don't stand to inherit anything, don't have any property, nothing – yet your relatives are going to extraordinary lengths to get rid of you. Why? And tell the truth!"

Harry looked at her carefully, pondering what to tell her. Maybe now _was_ the best moment to come clean. She was, after all, clearly suspicious and if the truth came out later and she hadn't been told… well, trust was something they desperately needed. Not to mention he was reluctant to hurt her which undoubtedly she _would_ be if Harry didn't come clean right there and now.

On the other hand, this really _wasn't_ the right time or place, especially with Laurence's warning still reverberating in his head. If she took affront, or called him a liar… they couldn't afford anyone running off or separating in these woods. And if she started yelling, as legend had it Weasleys were wont to do, then they may as well put a big magical flashing sign up saying 'Fresh Victims Here'.

"For all intents and purposes, Your Highness, I _am_ a servant," he decided on eventually. "But my relatives are a bit better off and don't like to think that they are connected to such a lowly _freak_. They despise magic and think I'm some sort of devils spawn, hated me since before I was born because my mother was magical too." He shrugged. "No doubt they were the ones who made sure my wand was broken in the arrest. It was the only thing I had that belonged to my father."

Throughout his tale, Ginevra's face had gone from suspicious and angry to horrified and even angrier. When he finished he could see her struggling to form a sentence that was more than just angry ranting for which he was glad. Glad because it meant there was less chance of Death Eaters overhearing them and also because she was angry on his behalf.

"That's despicable," she growled, eventually. "And disgusting." There was a pause and then, quieter, softer; "I'll get you a new wand, Gryf- James."

To his immense surprise (and total embarrassment), Harry found himself going red. "Er, thank you, Your Highness. But you really don't have – "

"Yes," Ginevra said firmly although she had gone a little red too. "Yes, I do."

"Well… thank you," Harry repeated, somewhat lamely.

And, as though there had been some sort of sign, they both headed off through the forest. They didn't say anything else, both lost in thoughts about their unexpected conversation, but when Ginevra's feet began to hurt and she took Harry's proffered arm, Harry realised with some surprise that what he was enjoying himself.

What a pity the feeling couldn't last.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Ron was extremely annoyed.

Although not a foreign emotion to the Prince, this particular occurrence was all the more frustrating because he was desperate to make a good impression on Countess Lily.

He rather suspected he was failing.

It had been going so well – amazingly well, even – and then that bloody wheel had broken! And everything had gone downhill from there.

First he had been shown up by Lily being more adventurous than he. Then, of course, he just had to go along with her, trying to play the part of strong, heroic prince. What had he been thinking?! Ron didn't walk _anywhere_ – he was a Prince! He rode a horse, a broomstick or in a carriage. And the places he _did_ walk were smooth, carefully maintained pathways. This was a forest, chocker block full of little pebbles to get in his boots; dry soil which caused him to slip about on the banks; and, worst of all, perky tree roots just designed to trip him up.

The first time he'd fallen flat on his face, Countess Lily had rushed over to help him up, fussing over him. That had been nice, despite the fact it had been extremely embarrassing. Plus it gave him a chance to hold her hand.

Now, 12 falls later, she just laughed at him and even the thrill of clasping her hand was soured by how black the front of his tunic was with dirt.

And, to further compound his misery, he had blisters.

Countess Lily on the other hand strode through the woods like she'd been born there. _She_ certainly didn't get hit in the face by low lying branches or limp after blisters made themselves known on her feet. She hadn't even stumbled once. Part of him was annoyed about that but it was a very small part.

So Ron hobbled and tripped after his lady, trying to disguise the fact that his boots would probably be leaking blood if this walk went on much longer.

Then, of course, they had to get lost.

"I'm sure the road was in this direction," Lily said, frowning. "Mind you, I wasn't paying much attention," she added, smiling at Ron.

Ron immediately huffed up indignantly before he realised she hadn't meant it as an insult; it was a compliment! She was too busy paying attention to him to keep track of where they were going. Frustration and pain melted away as he beamed at her. A chance to prove himself again! Brilliant!

"Well, those trees are pretty tall," he said, looking at the larger conifers surrounding them. "I'm sure I can climb one and see the direction of the palace – the towers are pretty high."

"Oh – Your Highness, you really shouldn't," Lily protested, looking alarmed.

But Ron was not to be deterred. "Don't worry, Countess," he said, reaching out to grab a low-lying branch. "I'll soon get us back on track."

"But, really, there's no need to climb this tree – "

"I'll be up in no time, don't worry," Ron called down, managing to haul himself up onto the lowest branch level.

"It's just that we can use – "

"Please, my Lady, fear not," Ron said, touch at her concern beginning to turn into annoyance. Couldn't she just let him have his moment?

Seemingly she had caught something of his annoyance in his reply for she made no further protests. Ron felt a bit guilty about that, but it soon passed. '_She'll feel differently when I've found the way back,_' he told himself and then his mind was completely engrossed in climbing the tree.

He hadn't got very far before Ron decided that climbing trees was bloody difficult. Part of his difficulties came from the tree itself. Whilst it looked quite sturdy the branches themselves were very light and prone to bending alarmingly under his weight. He'd already had a few alarming slips and his blood was pounding so loud in his ears that he wouldn't have been able to hear any of Lily's further protests had she made any.

The other part of his difficulties came from that his arms and upper bodies were no more used to pulling his bulk up a tree than his feet were made for walking. The branches were so supple that he was supporting his weight partly with his arms as well as his legs to spread it out but it was taking its toll. He had hardly moved higher than the level of Countess Lily's head than his arms and back were beginning to ache.

'_I must be near the top by now,_' Ron thought, somewhat despairingly as his arms began to tremble slightly. He couldn't very well back down now, not after he'd made such a fuss about climbing up. He leaned outwards slightly to see if he could get a glimpse of the palace. To his despair not only could he not see the palace but he realised that he'd hardly gotten very far off the ground at all.

'_I am such an idiot,_' he told himself, warring between his desire to go back down and his desire to not be completely humiliated.

As it turned out, the tree decided the matter for him. It had born him as best it could but now he had stopped it proved too much for the spindly branches. With much cracking and snapping they gave way and Ron found himself falling… falling…

"Oof!"

"Your Highness! Are you alright?"

Ron looked at her best he could from where the levitation spell held him captive. "Oh, just fine, Countess," he tried to say nonchalantly, but his blasé tone rather failed when it came out as a squeak.

Nonetheless, she looked visibly relieved and waved her wand gently, depositing Ron on his feet. His grateful smile at her froze on his face when he realised that his embarrassment was not a private one. Ginny, Luna _and_ Gryffindor were all stood around him, Ginny shaking with silent mirth and Gryffindor fighting a smile of his own.

"What in Merlin's name were you doing climbing a _tree_, Ronald?" Ginny managed to gasp out.

Ron puffed up indignantly. "Well I don't know if you've noticed, Ginevra, but we're lost," he informed her stiffly. "I was trying to get our bearings so we could actually _get_ back to the palace sometime this century."

Ginevra rolled her eyes. "And you thought the best way to do this was to climb a tree?"

"Well do _you_ have any bright ideas?"

Ginny didn't reply, just glared at him, which told him she, too, didn't have any clue. That made him feel better, but only a little. After all, _he_ was the one that looked like an idiot by falling out of a tree.

"We could find a gernumblie," Luna offered helpfully. "They're extremely wise."

"A what?" Ron asked, baffled.

"It's a garden gnome, Your Highness – er, Ron," Lily corrected as he stared at her. She frowned at Luna, "Even if we _did_ find one here, Lady Luna, I'm not entirely sure that they'd help us."

"Excuse me, Your Highness, there is always the 'point me' charm," Gryffindor said politely.

"Point me charm?" Ron repeated, Ginny looking equally confused. "What's that?"

"In its basic form it causes your wand to point north," Gryffindor explained. "But you can get it to point more specifically at a location. Countess Lily can perform it."

Ron looked over at the Countess, surprised, who was looking embarrassed and Ron's face flared an impressive shade of red as he realised why. '_Idiot, Ron,_' he told himself and not for the first time. '_She wasn't protesting because she was worried about you – but because she knew this charm. And there I go, rushing into climbing a tree like a proper idiot._'

Avoiding looking at Ron, Lily held out her wand and incanted, "Point me palace." The wand vibrated in place for a split second before twisting in the air, pointing somewhere to the right of the Countess.

"We should get going," Gryffindor said in the pause that followed. "There are Death Eaters in these woods – we don't want to be in here longer than we can help it."

Ron was about to protest Gryffindor ordering them around before his mind snagged on the words 'Death Eaters'. "Death Eaters? How do you know?"

"The driver told me – the Princess and I were catching you up to tell you when you…erm…"

"Fell out the tree," Ginny helped him out, smirking.

"Yes, _thanks_ Ginny, for reminding us all about that," Ron growled but his sister just smiled sweetly at him.

"Come on," she said, pulling at Gryffindor's arm, "I _really_ don't want to run into those Death Eaters again."

"Aw, Your Highness – and I was so looking forward to seeing you – I'm hurt!"

There was a brief pause, in which Ron could see his own shock and horror mirrored in the faces of his companions.

Then all hell broke loose.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

It was like living inside one of Harry's nightmares.

One second everything had been fine and the next he was launching himself to the ground and watching his friends follow suit. Unlike Harry, however, they had not managed to get out of the way of the jinxes in time. Harry felt his heart almost stop as Hermione's unconscious form crashed into the ground next to him. He growled and curled his fist around his wand…

Or where his wand would normally be.

"Gryffindor! What do we do?"

Harry turned, surprised to realise that he wasn't the only one to survive the initial cull. Princess Ginevra, eyes wide but angry, was lying down next to him, hand curled around her wand. Harry was impressed by her reflexes until he realised that she had been holding onto him when he threw himself to the ground and had inadvertently brought her with him.

Harry opened his mouth to answer her but then closed it. What was he going to tell her? Hermione, Ron and Luna were down, they were surrounded and only Ginevra had a wand. He opened his wand to tell her, but someone beat him to it.

"You surrender, Your Highness."

Harry and Ginevra looked up to see one of the Death Eaters jump down from a tree. Harry didn't know him but Ginevra breathed in sharply. As he glanced over at her he was surprised to see she was glaring angrily at the leader in recognition.

"Face it, Princess, you're completely surrounded and no aurors to save you this time."

"I don't need any aurors to save me," Ginny retorted, scrambling to her feet angrily, but froze as the Death Eater simply pointed his wand at a groaning Luna, whose head was almost under his feet. The leader fixed her with a cool smile and she reluctantly put her hands up in the air.

"You too," the leader said, nodding his head at Harry. As he got carefully to his feet, Harry studied the leader of the Death Eaters who had surrounded them so easily. For the fearsome leader of the Death Eaters the man was surprisingly young. Hardship had made his face appear older than he was and as a result, Harry was willing to bet that the man wasn't much older than he or Hermione. His skin was dark, as were his eyes, but lines around them showed that he laughed a lot. Harry found that unexpected. He hadn't thought of Death Eaters as having much to laugh about.

The rest of him, however, was much as Harry had imagined; skinny arms and legs; uneven, clumpy dark hair; mismatched clothing, riddled with patches; and a wand, old and worn, clenched tightly in calloused hands.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, eventually, as the Death Eaters made no move.

The man grinned. "Your wands, of course," he said, waving his free arm at some of his followers. As they started to move towards them Harry stood in front of the others. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Hermione just beginning to stir, although Ronald was still completely unconscious. The Death Eaters paused and looked back to their leader.

"Just our wands?" Harry asked carefully, watching the leader closely.

"Well, maybe a bit more," the leader admitted, smirking.

"How _much_ more," Ginevra asked, moving to stand up next to Harry. Harry was impressed by her bravery but wished she'd stayed behind him. If the Death Eater started firing he'd be hard pressed to get in front of her in time.

The grin grew wider. "Smart Princess to ask," he said, "but not so smart, maybe, seeing as how you came into our woods in the first place."

"Maybe I was looking for a rematch," Ginevra retorted, causing Harry to stare at her in surprise. When on earth had the Princess come across Death Eaters before? "You all ran away before I could beat you thoroughly."

The leader broke into a good laugh at that. "You know, you're not exactly what I thought a Princess would be," he told her almost conversationally.

Ginevra smiled. "Well, I've never been one to live up to expectations."

"I don't know, Your Highness; you've fair exceeded mine."

'_Are they _flirting_?!'_ Harry thought incredulously, looking between the two of them in astonishment. One moment he feared for his life and the next he was an uncomfortable spectator in a flirting match. He was also annoyed to feel his stomach clenching. Was he _jealous_?!

"Funny," Ginevra was saying. "You've not exceeded mine. You're exactly what I thought a Death Eater would be."

"Dark, handsome and charming?"

"I was going for a sneaky, underhand and cowardly lowlife."

"But you admit I'm handsome, right?"

"Um, Your Highness," Harry interjected hurriedly before this bizarre conversation could go any further.

Ginevra blinked at the sudden interruption and went a bit red. The leader just smirked and raised an eyebrow at them. When neither of them started speaking, Harry decided to take back up the reigns of the conversation before the flirting could resume.

"You still haven't told us exactly what you want from us," he said, staring intently at the leader.

The smirk turned into a full on grin. "Should have thought _that_ was obvious, _my Lord_," he mocked. "We want to be listened to – and, with two royals and the niece of the great master wandmaker in our hands, their Majesties are going to be listening _very_ carefully."

Harry went cold all over as he exchanged worried glances with Ginevra. Losing their wands they could deal with, but abduction was another matter altogether. He shuddered to think of what would happen in the country if two royals were kidnapped by Death Eaters, not to mention what would happen to Ginevra herself. He clenched his fists in anger at the thought.

"You're going to use us as a bargaining chip?" Ginevra asked angrily. "We're not tokens you can barter with!"

The leader shrugged. "It's not as if we have much choice, Your Highness. And don't worry, we'll treat you nice."

"What about myself and my servant?"

Harry turned in surprise to see Hermione getting carefully to her feet. He hadn't realised she'd fully come to. As he turned he saw that Ronald, too, was awake, although his eyes were slightly cloudy. Hermione's eyes, however, were clear and she was watching the leader worriedly. Harry hoped they weren't expecting a ransom for the 'Countess' because it would be a long time coming.

The leader looked at Harry in surprise. "You're a servant?" He didn't wait for Harry to answer, however, before turning back to Hermione. "We have no quarrel with you, my Lady, only with your wand. Hand it over and you and your servant can go."

"I am _not_ going without my escorts!" Hermione snapped, clenching her fists.

"You're welcome to remain with them," the leader suggested and for the first time his voice hinted that there was something more menacing underneath the smirks and witty banter, something that led him to lead this band of outlaws over far older men and women.

Hermione answered him with a glare.

The Death Eater laughed. "I should know better than to expect anyone _you_ travel with to be a typical court lady, Princess Ginevra," he said, only to meet another glare. He laughed again and then turned back to Hermione. "Well, Countess, I stand by what I said; you and your servant are free to go once you throw us your wand. But," he added, pulling a mock-pity face, "far be it from me to be anything less than a _gentleman_, please feel free to take anything else from us that will help you on your long and difficult journey."

At the end of his mocking speech the rest of the Death Eaters broke into laughter. Ginevra shifted angrily but made no move; throughout his speech the Death Eater's wand had never wavered from Lady Luna's worried face, even as she scrambled backwards out of his way. By their feet, Ronald was beginning to look around with a bit more clarity, although his eyes were still worryingly unfocused. It was possible the Prince had knocked his head as he fell and was now suffering from a concussion.

Harry, however, had not known Hermione for four years without learning to read her. As a result he was probably the only one that noticed her eyes light up. She'd obviously found something she could work with. What that was, of course, Harry had no clue. That's why she was the smart one.

"Do I have your word on that, sir?" Hermione asked carefully once the laughter had died down.

"Barring the wands, my Lady," he said, still grinning, "anything you or your servant can carry. _My word_."

Hermione immediately turned to Harry triumphantly. "H-James," she said, almost slipping. "Baling hay."

For a moment, Harry couldn't think what she meant. And then, suddenly, everything became clear. "2 or 1?"

"Just 1 for me," Hermione said, ignoring the completely perplexed expressions of their companions, not to mention that of the Death Eaters. But that was fine – the longer it took them to figure out their plan, the less likely they were to stop them.

"Excuse me, Your Highness, Lady Luna," Harry whispered, as he pulled the former to her feet, "but I'm going to need you to drop your wands."

"Why?" Ginevra hissed, even as Luna let hers roll out her fingers. It was she who answered the Princess, "Because he's the lightning bearer."

Ginevra looked she was going to argue but finally just sighed and threw hers away. "Fine."

"Wait, what are you – whoa!"

The leader swore as Harry ducked down and, with a bit of a groan and a surprised "Oof!" from Ginevra, managed to heft both her and Luna over his shoulders. As he straightened up as best he could under the weight of the two nobles, he looked over to see Hermione had managed to lift the extremely confused Prince over her own shoulders. She shot him a small smile before turning back triumphantly to the astonished Death Eaters.

"We thank you for your hospitality," she said, even managing a small bow, before turning and walking away. Harry followed his 'lady', struggling not to laugh both at the flabbergasted expression on the leader's face and the equally flummoxed expression on Ronald's face as he bumped around on Hermione's back.

And then suddenly there _was_ laughter, but it wasn't Harry. Instead, the laughter was coming from behind them.

"Wait, come back!"

"As _if_ we're that stupid," Harry heard Ginevra say to Luna. It was quite strange to hear two ladies having a conversation somewhere around his… '_Oh,_' Harry thought, going a bit red, and not just from the strain. '_Oh, bloody hell!_'

The leader of the Death Eaters, however, wasn't going to let them go that easy. "No, please, stop!" he repeated as he came running after them. Harry stopped with a sigh, although he didn't let down either noble. It was always going to be a long shot to escape with their captives. Word or no, the Death Eaters would be fools to let them walk away on nothing but a promise. '_We should have gotten an unbreakable vow,_' Harry thought sadly, although the Death Eaters would never have agreed to that.

Hermione too had stopped walking now and turned back to the Death Eater with a glare. "You gave us your word, Death Eater," she snapped angrily, but he cut her off.

"And I mean to keep it, my Lady," he told her, grinning, before bowing gallantly. "I must commend you on your wits, Countess – and your arms," he added, with a laugh. "It's been a long time since someone has gotten the best of me."

"I thank you, sir," Hermione said uncertainly, "but if you mean to keep your word why are you stopping us from carrying on with our way?"

"Because I think our leader would be most interested in meeting you, Countess," the Death Eater told her, smiling.

Harry looked at him sharply. "You mean you're _not_ the leader of the Death Eaters?" he asked, shifting Ginevra and Luna carefully. His back was beginning to ache.

The leader – or non-leader, as it turned out – threw out another one of his laughs. "Me? Merlin, no! I follow a much greater man than I."

"Why would your leader be interested in meeting us?" Hermione asked, also shifting under Ronald's weight.

"I think he'd like you," the Death Eater said quite honestly. "And don't forget, my Lady, that I said all we wanted was to be listened to. We may not be able to reach the King anymore but that doesn't mean I won't let the chance to talk to some intelligent, well-connected nobles pass us by."

"How do we know this isn't some kind of trick?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes.

"On my honour," the Death Eater replied instantly, "this is no trick. You will be free to leave once you have met with our leader and I'll even provide horses." Seeing the uncertainty and mistrust on both their faces, he sighed and said, "Look, I'll even give you these back," and shoved something into Hermione's free hand. When Harry looked closer he realised with a shock that they were their wands.

"Look, this is ridiculous," Ginevra said suddenly, shifting so unexpectedly that Harry almost dropped both her and Luna. "Let me down, Gryffindor, I'm not going to sit here like a lump of lead while our fates are decided." She was wriggling so much that Harry had to let both her and Luna down, arms tingling where the Princesses hand met his own once more. Harry was pretty sure it wasn't down to pins and needles but he tried to ignore it; Ginevra certainly was. Hermione hesitated a moment before following suit with Ronald. He was looking slightly green but managed to stand without falling over.

"Let me get this right," Ginevra said after she straightened her dress and snatched her wand back from Hermione, "you want to invite us over for a _chat_, not two minutes after you were going to hold us all for ransom?"

The Death Eater shrugged. "Believe what you will, Your Highness, I _do_ have some semblance of honour. And as you might be able to tell, we are desperate. We need _someone_ to listen to us. I'll admit you weren't the ones I would have picked, but we'll take what we can get. Especially," he added, with his trademark grin reappearing, "as you're not the dunderheads we were told to expect of court nobles."

Ginevra made a face at him, although it was half-hearted. She looked across at Hermione. "Countess, what do you think?"

Hermione stared at her wide eyed and it struck Harry just how ridiculous this situation really was. Here they all were, being asked to discuss politics and laws with terrorists on behalf of the monarchs, when Harry hadn't even managed to hold onto an estate that was legally his and Hermione was a servant, who had no political power or say in the country at all.

"I think," she said slowly, "that it's time someone listened to what the Death Eaters have to say."

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

The man who led the infamous Death Eaters, the most feared terrorists in the country, was a little bit of a let-down, truth be told. Ginny had half been expecting a maniacal psychopath, with glowing red eyes and a snake around his shoulders. What she got instead was a scholar.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was a lot older than she would have expected; the other half of her expectations featured a teenaged hot-head with no common sense but a ton of rage. Instead Tom, as he insisted they called him, was at the very least in his sixties, with a carefully groomed mane of grey-white hair around his wrinkled face. He was surprisingly well dressed considering that he was living in the middle of the forest although his clothes were well worn. His eyes, far from being red, were a dark grey-brown that searched them curiously as the Death Eater – whose name it turned out was Dean – introduced them.

If Riddle was surprised that Dean had brought them all along as guests rather than the hostages he was expecting he didn't let it show. Instead he had greeted them all amiably and even had a spare bow for Gryffindor. Ron was a little bit awkward around the wizard, as per usual in nearly any social situation, although considering _who_ they were meeting, Ginny couldn't blame him. Lady Luna, on the other hand, treated Riddle just as she would anyone else. That is to say she eyed him carefully, warned him he was plagued by an excessive amount of wrackspurts, before wandering off to pick some flowers.

Riddle watched her go, warring between amusement and confusion. Amusement won.

"It's not often I meet someone who doesn't care who I am," he commented almost wistfully. "It's quite refreshing. People's impressions and expectations of you weigh rather on your mind, don't you find, Your Highnesses?" Ron blinked uncertainly, but Ginevra stared at him in surprise. She made no comment, however, so Riddle carried on. "I assume you're wondering why I wanted to meet with you?"

"Meet with us?" Ginny asked coolly, raising an eyebrow. "I was under the impression you wanted to abduct us and hold us for ransom."

Riddle fixed her with a piercing stare but Ginny didn't waver. Terrorist or not, she wasn't going to dance around the fact that he'd try to abduct her, her brother and Luna not half an hour ago. The only reason he hadn't managed it was because of Lily's quick wits, Dean's vague sense of honour and Gryffindor's strong arms. Very strong arms… and then there was –

'_Snap out of that, Ginny,_' she scolded herself, banishing the memory of the view she'd had as she'd been carried away to focus on the problem at hand.

"We are desperate men and women, Your Highness," Riddle said softly. "We are the forgotten masses, the children thrown out into the cold to die, abandoned by all. We are tired of being ignored but those who have the power to help us – whose _duty_ it is to protect us – turn away from our problems like all the rest."

"Well of _course_ the King and Queen aren't going to listen to you if you attack innocent people," Ron said, like an idiot.

Ginny refrained from hitting her senseless brother, but it was a close call. Riddle, however, didn't seem to take offense at the comment and instead gave a small sad smile. "Well, Your Highness, I didn't _start_ by 'attacking' people. I _started_ by seeking a petition with the King. I campaigned, I spoke to as many nobles, wealthy merchants and even commoners as I could, I wrote letters, I spoke at parties and practically beggared myself in the process. _Nobody would listen_."

There was silence as that sunk in. Ginny could well imagine that all the others were as surprised as she was, although Gryffindor and Lily strangely exchanged meaningful looks. She had not realised this issue had been going on so long. Indeed, the first she had heard about it was only a few days ago and that encounter in the woods. Since then she had spent a not-inconsiderable amount of time questioning the aurors and reading reports on Death Eaters to satisfy her curiosity. In none of those reports had she seen any hint that the problem had been going on for longer than a few months. Nor, for that matter, had she seen the name Tom Marvolo Riddle anywhere.

"Well, it doesn't surprise me that the nobility are experts in not listening to anything other than themselves," Gryffindor said wryly. That was unexpected. Ginny and Ron both looked at Gryffindor in surprise, although whereas Ron was affronted by his comment, Ginny was struck by how acute Gryffindor's observation was. Just look at her parents!

"What surprises me, Mr Riddle," Lily said, giving Gryffindor a warning look, "is that, whilst you are clearly from a wealthy family, you took up a difficult cause that was not your own. Why do it?"

Riddle looked at her carefully. "Well picked up on, Countess," he said, giving her a smile. "A sharp mind, but I knew that already." He sighed. "You're right; I was fortunate enough to be born into a merchant family, one just wealthy enough to afford some semblance of magical tuition. I was not abandoned onto the streets to die, but my mother _was_." He didn't pause to acknowledge their shock but went straight on.

"My mother was born into a poor family of common labourers. Although the family itself had at one point been magical, over the generations the magic had 'fizzled out', as it were, of the family line. My mother was the first to be born with any noticeable magical gift in several generations. My grandfather was a ghastly example of a human being and, once he cottoned onto the fact the strange things that were happening was the result of my mother's magic, he ran her out of the house. She was just nine years old.

"That could have been the end of my mother, were it not for my paternal grandfather. I don't know why my mother moved him so, when he must walk past tens of starving beggars every day, but he saw her and pitied her and took her into his own house. He bade the servants care for her and, once she was well enough, began working as a maid in his house.

"There were accidents, of course, that could not be helped but my grandfather laughed at them all and, through promises and calling in favours, managed to get my mother a little bit of magical education. He even got her a wand in lieu of wages for her first two years." Riddle shrugged. "I don't know why my father fell in love with her, any more than my grandfather rescued her. By all accounts she was not a pretty woman, but there was obviously something more to her for, once she was old enough, my father married her. She died giving birth to me, but I listened to the tales my father and grandfather told about her and I have never forgotten."

There was a weighty pause at the end of Riddle's tale. Ginny felt oddly moved and very sad that he had never met the woman who had endured so much to give life to him. And had he not, in his own way, given his life for her? For it was clear that his commitment to his cause came from the memory of what his mother's fate could have been.

"That's very sad," Lily said simply.

Riddle shrugged. "Unfortunately, Countess, _that_ is a happy tale. There are many more that ended far worse than mine. Take Dean, for example," he said, nodding his head towards the younger man who was still stood with them. "When Dean started showing magical powers, his mother realised that her husband was a wizard who had deceived her. She ran away from him and left Dean, just five, in the woods to die."

Ginny was horrified, as was Ron. Strangely, whilst Lily and Gryffindor were saddened, they were not particularly surprised. "That's horrible!" Ginny said, staring at the Death Eater in a new light. To grow up all your life knowing your mother abandoned you because of something you couldn't help…

Dean's face was carefully blank. "Don't worry about me, Your Highness," he said, although his usual laidback tone had disappeared, "I'm perfectly happy with my life as it is."

"I didn't realise this sort of thing was so bad," Ginny said, half to herself. Despite having touched on it with Gryffindor earlier, the idea of magic being a curse, something to be despised, was new and alien. She loved having magic, couldn't imagine her life without it; it was part of who she was. But if that part of her was the reason her mother would hate her or her father threw her out… she rather wondered how people like Dean could live without despising themselves.

"It's not just poor families, Your Highness," Gryffindor said. She went a bit pink as he looked at her, feeling oddly uncomfortable. She put it down to spending a fair few minutes doing nothing but staring at the man's backside. She tried to push the image out of her mind once more – even if it _was_ a lovely backside – to focus on what Gryffindor was saying. "It happens to well-placed servants as well. We found one of our maids, He-Heather, living on the streets and rescued her. Her family, who were important servants in a large noble household, had thrown her out once she'd started showing signs of magic. They were too frightened of losing their jobs to protect their daughter."

He looked over at Lily, who was looking very sad, and it struck Ginny once again how very unusual the Countess really was. In her own way, Lily was more like Riddle than she was like Ginny herself. Ginny just sat and went along with what she was told. Sure, she liked to think that she had a rebellious side, but in reality how far beyond her own polished doorstep did she ever look? Lily not only looked, but she went out and changed things, improved the world she lived in and she didn't have half the power of a Princess.

'_I don't think I've ever been ashamed of what I am before now,_' Ginny thought to herself, staring at Lily and Gryffindor. '_Or, more accurately, of what I _could_ be but aren't, because I haven't really tried._'

She opened her mouth to ask Riddle to pass on his message, but someone beat her to it.

"Alright, Riddle – we're listening now. What have you got to say?"

Ginny stared at her brother in astonishment, before smiling. '_Seems I'm not the only one getting an education from Countess Lily,_' she thought wryly. Although, she realised, Gryffindor was a bit of an education, too. Her eyes drifted over to the servant, pondering their earlier conversation. She had wanted to talk to him because she was curious; both about what both Luna and Dumbledore had hinted at and also because he was so very un-servant like. She hadn't felt any clearer after talking to him though. Rather, her head was now bursting with another hundred questions she wanted to ask him.

Suddenly she realised that this Heather wasn't the only one in the Ravenclaw household to suffer for being a low-born witch or wizard. What had Gryffindor said?

"_They despise magic and think I'm some sort of devils spawn, hated me since before I was born because my mother was magical too."_

It was clear that Gryffindor was an important person in the Ravenclaw household, but even with that protection it hadn't stopped his own family from persecuting him because of his magical abilities. Even Lily could only just save him in time, with all the power she had at her disposal. Ginny rather wondered then if _that_ was the real reason Lily had suddenly popped up at Court; to rescue her servant.

As if sensing her gaze, Gryffindor looked over and locked eyes with her. To her immense embarrassment she found herself _blushing_, of all things, and immediately turned back to Riddle who was thanking her brother profoundly before starting on all his carefully thought out points.

Shame, it seemed, was becoming a recurring emotion to Princess Ginevra. For all throughout Riddle's speech Ginny felt extremely ashamed. It wasn't due to the extreme injustice she had failed to notice just down the road, although that was a small part of it.

No, Ginny's shame came from the fact that, although she had promised herself to properly listen to Riddle's arguments, at least part of her attention was always dwelling on the sensation of Gryffindor's eyes locked on her own.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

**Warning: another really long authors notes!**

I found this chapter SO HARD! It's one of my favourite scenes in the film but trying to keep the light tone of it was extremely difficult. It kept getting dark and nasty to the point where I could see no real reason why Dean would spontaneously invite them to 'tea' and they accept! So I rewrote it a million times until I got some nice, light banter between Ginny and Dean and a slightly more plausible scenario whereby they would go off and meet the Death Eaters. So I know it's far from perfect and if anyone has any suggestions I'd be more than happy to hear them. But for now what it written is written and please stick with it!

On a different note I found a great deal of glee in writing a Tom Riddle who was, to some extent, a champion for muggleborns than purebloods (as it is more likely that a low born muggleborn would be abandoned than a low born pureblood, simply due to the fact that their parents/grandparents would have some kind of magical knowledge to impart). And before you ask, no – Riddle's mother did _not_ use love potions to ensnare Tom Riddle Sr or Jr. They were just decent people in this story!

**Review response for Tenolian:**

I usually don't reply to guest reviews in stories simply because it clutters up the page but I wanted to address your comments because it's something I've thought about too. When I started this story it was always going to be a H/G story. I don't really read romance stories but if I do then they're either James/Lily or H/G. No offence to R/H shippers but I would never read a R/H romance on its own. I'm quite happy to read it as part of another story but, like I said, I don't really do romance.

So, although I knew R/H would be in this, I was always adapting the story to include H/G. As it happened the H/G, because it didn't follow the main storyline, has taken a lot longer to come about so in terms of main _ships_ at the moment, yes, it is more R/H. But I think it is unfair to see that Harry and Ginny are not main characters in this story at all. In fact, Harry in some respects is the most central character as everything hinges around his story. When I write a chapter I try to have a pov from at least 3 of each of my _**four**_ main characters; Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny. H/G is a big part of this (as I hope you agree this chapter shows) it just has taken longer to develop to be more realistic (although they get the better ending in my opinion!)

Wow, that sounded ranty. It wasn't meant to sound ranty! Sorry about that :S In a way my reluctance to change my settings is because neither R/H or H/G fans will be completely happy with the story and my favourite is H/G so…

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the H/G bits in this chapter :D

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	15. Chapter 14: Party

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** - '_blah_' = thoughts

- Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**Chapter Fourteen: Party**

Death Eaters, Ron decided, knew how to party.

You wouldn't have thought it, given their reputation, but Ron had decided quite early on that if one of the tedious royal balls they seemed to throw every other week was anything like a death eater party then he'd be first in line when the doors opened.

As the sun started setting, they finished their talk with Riddle. Ron, much to his surprise, had found it all very interesting. As sixth in line to the throne he had seen no reason to get involved with any of the royal councils or audiences. He would never have to sit in judgement, head a council or do anything even remotely related to being in charge of anything. What was the point of putting in so much effort for something he'd never have to use?

Not to mention it was utterly boring.

But that was the surprising thing; talking to Riddle wasn't boring. He didn't know what had changed; maybe it was the still present threat of being captured. Ron, however, suspected it had more to do with the woman sitting quietly next to him, watching Riddle with an intent expression on her face.

Since he'd met her he'd had his world turned upside down, everything he thought he knew challenged and he found he was looking at the world in a completely different light. Not only was he doing things he never thought he would be – like, for example, sitting down and having a civilised chat with the leader of a terrorist group – but he was _enjoying_ doing them, more than he would ever have guessed.

Ron had never really looked past the next meal or the next game of Quidditch. He certainly hadn't ever considered what life was like for anyone else. Riddle's tales, and those of his followers, were certainly a revelation and he instantly felt ashamed. At least he wasn't the only one; judging from Ginny's face she too was feeling thoroughly guilty.

Now, he had decided, as he listened to Riddle speak, he was going to do something to make up for all that. The only problem was what?

When he asked Riddle had said, "You need to change perception of magic, make it seen as a gift among the lower classes."

Lily, however, had shaken her head. "It's all very well to say that, but how to do it? And the opinions of the lower classes will never change as long as being a wizard or witch is too expensive."

"Could you make wands cheaper?" Ron asked.

Ginny shook her head that time. "That's someone's trade," she pointed out. "We'd just be alienating the wandmakers and there are few enough of them as it is."

They all paused. Ron was surprised Riddle hadn't thought about anything practical implementations for his cause but, as he looked back across at them, Ron realised he _had_; he was just waiting to see what ideas they would come up with. '_Oh, bloody hell: I suck at stuff like this._'

Luckily it appeared that Gryffindor didn't. "You need to open a school," he said quietly.

"A magic school?" Ginny questioned looking at the servant curiously. "We already have two of those."

Gryffindor rolled his eyes. "Oh, yes, I can just _imagine_ the utter joy on Professor Karkaroff's face when he learns he must open his beloved school to commoners," he drawled, eliciting a snort from Lily and a surprised one from Ginny. "Durmstrang and Beauxbatons are too steeped in their rich aristocratic history to work, too elitist. You need to open a new school completely from scratch, funded by the state, where _both_ commoners and nobles can work together as equals."

Ron had been doubtful at first, as was Ginny. After all, state funded implied a _lot_ of money being drained from the treasury. But, as both Lily and Gryffindor pointed out, how much money was spent on pursuing criminals, especially death eaters, a large majority of whom were abandoned witches and wizards? And, Gryffindor had pointed out, in the long run it meant more witches and wizards who were qualified and able to take part in more specialised trades, such as wandmaking. That meant the price of wands would begin to decrease, making magical study ever more affordable and would result in the Kingdom becoming more prosperous.

Ron hadn't thought all that was possible just from opening a school but Lily and Gryffindor had assured him it was completely possible.

As the talking had gone on Ron had found he was becoming more and more interested. On a day to day basis he never had any reason to really stretch his brain and much to his surprise he found he was enjoying the 'exercise'. He was quite sure if his professors at Durmstrang could see him now they would all pass out with shock.

By the end of the talks between himself, Riddle, Lily, Ginny and, most unexpectedly, Gryffindor they'd managed to hash out some kind of basic idea of plans to set into motion and a temporary truce agreed. As Riddle had called out the news to the surrounding men and women the looks of happiness and relief on their faces had made Ron feel surprisingly happy himself.

The Death Eaters, it seemed, liked a good excuse to party. As soon as Riddle had shaken hands with the five of them a great cheer had gone up. Three big bonfires around the clearing had been lit, immediately throwing the forest into a magical haze. The mystical effect was further amplified by Lily who laughed and twirled her wand. Immediately twinkling multi-coloured orbs flew out her wand and began dancing around the trees.

"Very nice, Countess," Riddle complimented, smiling. Lily blushed.

"Let's have a toast," Riddle called, motioning at a Death Eater nearby who brought over some rough cups filled with something that didn't much look like pumpkin juice. "To new friends," Riddle called out, "and new beginnings."

"New beginnings," Ron repeated and took a swallow of his drink. '_Definitely _not_ pumpkin juice!_' Ron thought as he started coughing. He heard laughter.

"Firewhiskey?" he managed to gasp out before devolving into coughing once more. More laughter followed.

After that the evening seemed to blur into one. He remembered dancing quite badly with a few people – and remembered at one point arguing with Ginny for dancing with too many people – and also a vague recollection of a bawdy singing match with several large Death Eaters.

And there was firewhiskey.

Lots and lots of firewhiskey.

At some point in the evening, when things were beginning to die down a little, Ron found himself sat by the bonfire next to Lily. Luna was still dancing, although she was dancing by herself surrounded by cheering Death Eaters. Ginny was sitting a bit further away, chatting with Gryffindor. Some small part of him thought he should be acting the overprotective brother but he ignored that.

Instead, he focused on the very pretty witch sat by his side.

"I can't remember the last time I felt so free," Lily said happily.

Ron looked at her and felt his face inadvertently break into a matching smile. She was flushed from dancing and her carefully styled hair had broken free of its pins and nets to become a frizzy mess. If it had been any other woman Ron would have sniggered to see a lady so messily dressed but on Lily it only served to make her seem fiercer, bolder and more… well, 'free', just like she'd said.

"Same here," Ron told her, realising it was true. There were no responsibilities out here, not right now; he was free to do what he wanted and _be_ who he wanted, not who was expected.

Lily looked across at him. "You have to be careful, Your Highness," she told him, grinning.

"Why's that, Countess?" Ron asked, feeling slightly alarmed for a second.

"Because, Your Highness, you are in very real danger of becoming a decent human being," she told him, laughing.

"Oh," Ron said, feeling his ears go red.

"You know, you were really brilliant today," she said, flicking a few loose leaves into the bonfire. "I didn't think you'd listen to them at all."

"Well a week ago I wouldn't have," Ron admitted honestly. "But you make me see everything different, Countess. I'm a better person when I'm around you."

"Oh." Now it was Lily's turn to turn red.

They both sat there in silence for a while, thinking about what the other had said. Around them the party continued, shouts and songs coming from every corner of the clearing. Ron's thoughts were spinning around in his head and it wasn't just from the alcohol. The proximity of Lily was just as intoxicating. He couldn't even think back to what he was like before her; that was a different time and a different Ron. He had wanted to court her, to woo her, almost as soon as he had set eyes on her but now he realised he wanted more: he wanted to be with her.

He wanted to marry her.

But he couldn't tell her that now, when they were both more than slightly inebriated and surrounded by loud, drunken men and women. It needed to be somewhere else, somewhere special, somewhere _private_…

"Countess," he said.

"Yes, Sire?" she replied, turning towards him.

"Ron, remember?"

"Ron," she corrected, smiling nervously.

"Lily," he began again. "Do you know the town of Ottery St Catchpole?"

She blinked at him, surprised. "Erm, yes, sire? It's about an hour's ride from G – my cousin's."

"I used to live there when I was younger," he told her. "Before my mum was called to the capital and crowned we all lived in this rundown mansion called the Burrow. I used to go back there every now and again, to remind myself of how far I've come… now I'd like to go back again, but this time I'm going to remind myself of how far I've yet to go." Nervous, but alcohol giving him an unexpected surge of courage, he reached out and took her hand. "I'd really like it if you could meet me there tomorrow."

Lily stared at him wide eyed. "Oh, Your –Ron," she said eventually. "I'll… I'll try."

Ron felt so light and happy he felt he was in danger of floating. "Then I'll wait all day for you."

She smiled at him shyly and Ron realised with a start he was still holding her hand. He looked down at their entwined hands, tingling starting on his fingers from the contact. As he looked back up he saw she was still looking at him, hadn't moved backwards. In fact, she was moving closer and so was he, his free hand going up to cup her face and then…

"Heeeeeeyyy!"

Ron had never wanted to murder anyone more in his life than the Death Eater that interrupted them. As he broke away from her to glare at him he simply burst into laughter and applause, quickly followed by the rest of the Death Eaters with a few wolf whistles thrown in. Much to his mortification he realised Ginny was the one wolf-whistling, laughing with Gryffindor as he just smirked at his mistress.

As he looked over to apologise to Lily he realised she was laughing too, face pink, embarrassed but happy. He squeezed her hand as he started laughing, too.

Everything was going to work out alright.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

"Well, who would have thought it," Ginevra said with a sigh, "my brother actually managed to get the girl." Harry looked at her sideways, eyebrow raised. She pulled a face at him. "Don't look at me like that; Ron is bloody useless at nearly everything."

"This isn't sounding any better, Your Highness," Harry told her, laughing.

Ginevra screwed up her face. "No, it isn't, is it?" she agreed. "But I _am_ his little sister; it's my job to mock him mercilessly. Next time he does something to annoy me this little indiscretion is coming back to haunt him."

"And here I thought the job of siblings was to be nice to and love each other."

"Well it's pretty obvious from that that _you_ don't have any siblings," Ginevra said before immediately clamming up. "Bugger. Sorry, James, I forgot about your parents," she apologised, but Harry waved it off.

"Doesn't matter, Princess."

Truth be told his parents died so long ago and he had endured so many insults about them at the hand of the Dursleys that he doubted anyone could hurt him about them anymore. And Ginevra was wrong; he _did_ have a sister.

As Harry watched Hermione and Ronald talk he felt nothing but happiness for her. He knew she had liked the Prince for a while, but until this afternoon he wasn't sure that the Prince was worthy of her. He had been nice enough but, as Hermione herself had observed, quite self-involved. But the conversation they had all had with Riddle had shown Harry he was capable of thinking of others. Not only that, but once he had grasped the concept behind Harry's idea, had been surprisingly enthusiastic and brought up some good points.

"Your mistress has been a good influence on him," Ginevra said suddenly, almost as if she was reading his thoughts. "Me, too," she added, almost as an afterthought.

"She's something special, isn't she?" Harry agreed, smiling proudly. If only Ginevra had seen how she had started off, that scared almost feral girl. He had been worried when he'd brought up her past under the rather pathetic pseudonym of 'Heather' but she'd hardly blinked. However much mentioning his parents didn't hurt him, bringing up Hermione's parents was still painful for her. "Although I wouldn't count yourself out either, Princess."

Ginevra raised an eyebrow at him. "What on earth do you mean?"

"Well, whatever I thought about Princesses or court ladies in general, I certainly didn't imagine one that skates on water, plays quidditch, exchanges verbal spars with terrorists, dance with commoners and drinks copious amounts of firewhiskey."

By the end of his little speech Ginevra was completely red and Harry was well on his way to joining her. What an idiotic thing to say. Seemed liked Ginevra wasn't the only who had had a bit too much firewhiskey. Although if he was honest he couldn't completely blame the alcohol; every part of him was hyper aware of the Princess sitting close besides him. The side that was next to her was tingling so badly that every time she shifted even a fraction he could feel it in every inch of his skin. He would've thought it would get easier to bear the longer the night went on but it hadn't; it had got worse. Now, it seemed, it was teaming up with the alcohol to make the most ridiculous things come out of his mouth.

Before he could apologise for what was undoubtedly an inappropriate comment – she _was_ royalty, after all – Ginevra retorted.

"Well, you're one to talk! You beat Princesses at Quidditch, rescue damsels in distress, talk politics with royalty and terrorists, drink said terrorists under the table and are a lightning bearer, whatever _that_ is."

That penultimate referred to Dean, currently unconscious somewhere by Harry's feet. Harry hadn't been at all sorry to see the witty Death Eater pass out; he had danced with – and flirted with – Ginevra far too many times for Harry's liking. No matter their temporary truce, she was still a Princess.

And he just didn't like seeing him flirt with Ginny.

"A servant does what he can, Your Highness."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, Harry reflecting further on the Princess. Before all this had started he had had very little cause to think of the Princess. Whenever he wasn't thinking about how to get out from under the Dursleys any thoughts he had tended to focus on Ronald and the other younger Princes, the ones that were closest to him in age. The only reason he had ever thought of Ginevra at all was whenever Petunia had started making ridiculous references to marrying Dudley off to her. The Princess he had envisioned in his head had looked a little like Ginevra – long red hair, small figure and pretty face – but she had been a meek, courteous and _proper_ little noble.

He realised as soon as he met her that she was not the meek little courtier he had imagined. The mental image he had of her immediately was painted over with the fire and boldness she had displayed that day at the lake. He'd been slowly adding new tones and brushstrokes to that picture, but only today felt like he was getting in those subtle touches and hues that made Ginevra Ginevra.

"You know, you're wasted as a servant."

Harry turned to the Princess in shock. "What makes you say that?"

She shrugged although she was a little pink. "You're funny, clearly intelligent, strong, have a good grasp of politics – that's more than most of the nobles at court. I doubt _you_ would be fool enough to prance about in a hat with a feather a metre high," she added gloomily.

Harry started at what was so clearly a mention of Dudley. For a moment he wondered how she would know. '_Of course, idiot; she and Ronald went round the market place with Dudley and Petunia the following day. They _had_ to have met them that first day._'

Any kind of joke at his cousin's expense usually cheered Harry up but not tonight. Tonight it brought reality crashing back in like a cold shower.

Ginevra must have noticed something in his face. "Is it something I said?" she asked, worried.

"No," Harry lied. "It's something else." He struggled to his feet and offered a hand down to her. "Come, my Lady – we'd best head back, else your royal father will send out guards after us."

"Oh bloody hell!" Ginevra swore, grabbing hold of Harry's arm hurriedly. "He'd probably have sent the aurors out already if Ron wasn't with me." At Harry's enquiring gaze she shifted uncomfortably. "I have a teensy habit of running away every now and then."

Harry laughed, although inwardly wondered what on earth could be so bad at the palace that she felt she had to run away to escape from it. '_She should try living with the Dursleys_,' he thought gloomily, before batting the thought away. He'd never wish the Dursleys on anyone!

He ignored the fresh surge of tingles holding her hand sent through his arm.

"I'll try and pry the two lovebirds apart," Ginevra was saying with a smirk. "Please find Lady Luna and persuade her to stop dancing."

"I'll find Riddle, too," Harry said. "He – well, Dean – promised us horses."

"Great, see you in a bit."

As Ginevra strode off to butt into Ron and Hermione's conversation, Harry wandered off to where he could see several flashes of multi-coloured lights. It seemed Lady Luna had persuaded several of Hermione's glowing orbs to join in the dancing and now she, and several cheering and laughing Death Eaters, were engaged in a complicated looking dance that involved much twisting, leaping and weird batting motions in the air.

As Harry tried to persuade the exuberant Luna that she needed to stop dancing, he couldn't help his mind drifting back to what Ginevra had said about Dudley. It was just a throw away comment but something about the way she had said it bothered him. A lot.

'_I have a bad feeling about this,_' he thought as chased after the Lady Luna.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Ginevra was feeling much more subdued by the time the party of horses reached the whomping willow. The long ride and cool night had banished away most of the fuzzy warmth the firewhiskey had given her as well as the worry that she would meet an auror search party on her way back. That was the _last_ thing she needed right now; to be in even _more_ trouble with her parents.

'_Although,_' Ginny thought, defiantly, '_Ron and I have managed to do what they've failed to do for years and that's strike an agreement of sorts with the Death Eaters. They can't fault us for _that.'

She decided to ignore what their reactions might be to the life-threatening danger it had also involved.

She was, however, going to mention the parts both Lily and James had played. James deserved so much more than to be a servant, even one so highly respected as he was by the Countess. She would recommend he join the aurors, once she gave him that new wand. That would suit him perfectly and she would see him quite often.

It _was_ a perfect solution. Although the alcohol made her say it, she had meant every word. James _was _funny, talented, intelligent and utterly loyal to his mistress. Those were rare qualities in all men, not just commoners. There was something so magnetic about him as well, something she couldn't put her finger on. Once she'd properly begun to look at him she realised that he was a natural leader; it was there when he'd faced down the Death Eaters in the clearing; when he'd treated with Riddle so respectfully but knowledgably. Maybe that was why she felt oddly drawn to him? Or maybe it was just because she didn't often find someone who could give her a run for her money in Quidditch.

Whatever the reason she was sure that he would make an amazing auror. Getting him a position was the least she could do in return for saving her life. It was, as she had said earlier, perfect.

So why did she feel unhappy at the thought of him being an auror?

"Whoa, whoa."

Jerked out of her thoughts, Ginevra reigned in her horse as James and Lily slowed their own horses. "You're getting off here?" she asked, surprised. She'd assumed they would escort them back to their own residence.

"My cousin's house is quite close, Princess," Lily explained as James held out a hand for her. "I don't want to wake anyone up, we'll be fine from here."

"What about thieves?" Ron asked.

Lily gave him a look. "We just 'defeated' a whole band of terrorists, Your Highness," she said merrily. "I doubt there is anything more dangerous about."

They all laughed at that.

"So I'll see you tomorrow, Countess?" Ron asked.

"You shall," Lily agreed with a shy smile.

"Until tomorrow then, my Lady," he cried gallantly and was on the verge of kicking his horse into action when Ginny realised she'd forgotten something horribly important.

"Wait!" she yelled and slid off her horse, cursing herself for an idiot. All that time, practically the entire day, and she completely forgot to ask the other girl the one question she'd come out to ask. Fuzzy feelings had completely vanished and all the worries and fears that she'd been suppressing all day came rushing back. _'How could I forget?!_'

"Ginny," Ron groaned, "not now."

"Yes, Ron, now," she snapped back at him angrily, "or would you rather I came along with the two of you tomorrow?"

He shut up.

"What is it, Your Highness?" Lily asked, perplexed. Besides her James was looking equally confused. She tried to ignore his intense green stare to focus on the lady.

"I need your advice, Countess," Ginny said, trying not to sound as desperate as she felt, "and please, call me Ginny."

"Can't it wait, Your – er, Ginny?" the older girl asked. "It is quite late."

But Ginny shook her head. "I know it's late, Lily, and I'm sorry but I'm running out of time. I meant to ask you today, but with the library and the Death Eaters… well, let's just say I hadn't really wanted to think about it."

"What on earth's the matter?"

"I'm betrothed," Ginny blurted out and then it was as if a switch had been hit in her head. She had meant to explain the situation calmly and dispassionately but the long day, firewhiskey or sheer desperation she was feeling had made that impossible. "To an absolutely awful pig of an earl. My parents have given me an ultimatum – if I can find love by tomorrow they will dissolve my marriage contract. I thought it was perfect at first but I can't do it! I can't make myself marry someone I don't love but equally I just can't _can't_ marry that despicable whale Potter! I need some help, Countess, I just don't know what to do!"

Both Lily and James were staring at her in horror which may have been due to the fact that she had started crying. Again.

"_What_'s the name of your betrothed?" James asked, voice hard.

"Earl Harry James Potter," Ginny spat, tears positively streaming down her face, "and you don't know what he's like – he's just awful, him and his bitch of an aunt both. Tell me what I should do!"

Neither of them said anything at all, they just continued to stare at her in total shock. Then:

"I don't believe this," James murmured, green eyes flashing with such fury that Ginny took an astonished step backwards. He shook his head in disbelief, fists clenched. "I don't bloody _believe_ this!"

And then he was gone, racing over the hills at full speed, not even glancing back once.

"Ha – JAMES!" Lily yelled after him, frantic. He just ignored her and carried on running. With the dark of night still upon them it wasn't long until he'd completely disappeared in the gloom. Lily turned around, wild eyed, to stare back at Ginny. "I'm sorry, Ginny, I have to go." Just as she was turning away Lily suddenly twisted back round to envelop a mystified Ginny in a quick hug. Just before she broke away to chase after her servant, Ginny could have sworn she heard the Countess whisper, "I'm so sorry."

And then she was gone.

Ginny wasn't going to lie: she was extremely hurt. She'd just poured out her deepest worry out to someone she thought would help her – two someones – and they'd both turned and run away as though something was chasing them.

"What the bloody hell?!"

Ginny looked up at her older brother. Ron looked down at her and for once didn't say anything insensitive or rude about her crying like a girl. Instead he reached down a hand and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Every time I think I've got that woman figured out she disappears on me again," he quipped although it was forced. "You alright, Gin?"

"You haven't called me that in years," Ginny hiccupped, ignoring the question. Inside her stomach was roiling and her emotions were a tornado of hurt, anxiety and bewilderment. It wasn't a nice combination. Then she had to know, "Was it me?"

"No, Gin, it wasn't," Ron said firmly. "I don't know what it was, but it definitely wasn't you. And I know Lily – if she can help you she will. Maybe that's what they raced off to do," he added, although even he sounded highly sceptical.

Ginny didn't know why the two had run off but she knew Lily enough to know that if the girl had any practical advice to offer she would have given it. What hurt more was the fact that she thought she had known _James_ enough that he wouldn't have run away from her like that, especially after the evening they had just shared.

That hurt most of all.

Belatedly Ginny realised that Ron was still waiting for her to go – and that the aurors were likely still heading their way. Although the worry about being berated by parents _again _felt small and insignificant against the mess of swirling emotions inside it was enough to get her moving. She didn't think she could take a yelling match – she'd be like to do something she regretted.

Ron didn't say anything as Ginny wandered desolately back over to her horse but as she grabbed the reigns he said, "Everything will work out, Gin, it will. Don't worry."

'_No, Ron,_' Ginny thought in her head as she'd climbed back up on the saddle, _'it really won't._'

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

**Authors Note:**

Aha! So they finally know! Duh duh DUUUUHHHH!

It's quite a short chapter. The chapter before was quite long so I did consider taking some of that and putting it in here, but I quite like it as it stands. It's basically one scene in the film but lots of fluff. On a similar note I've also never had to write any romance/fluff before either, so apologies for all of that!

Thanks for reading,

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	16. Chapter 15: Burrow

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** - '_blah_' = thoughts

- Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**Chapter Fifteen: Burrow**

All Harry could see was red.

Some distant, disconnected part of him knew what he was doing was racing at full sprint across fields and roads to Godric's Hollow but he couldn't feel it; couldn't feel his legs pounding at the ground; couldn't hear his breathing loud in his ears; couldn't feel when small stones hit him in the shins as they were kicked up. For Harry the scenery ran into one long red-hued blur.

'_Despicable, disgusting, manipulative, deceitful…_'

That disconnected part of him could also hear Hermione, frantic and breathless, calling behind him, begging him to stop, but he paid her no attention.

'_Didn't think even _they_ could stoop so low_…'

It seemed to take but an instant for Harry to get back to the Hollow, thoughts screaming and yelling in his head all the way home. He didn't pause to take in the view of Godric's Hollow, a patchwork of soft yellow light against the starry backdrop, just kept racing across the sweeping emerald lawn. He no longer cared if the Dursleys saw him, all rational thought driven out of his mind at what he had just learnt.

He didn't know why Sirius happened to be standing in the entrance hall at that particular moment; maybe it was some instinct or flash of divination. More likely it was Harry's sheer dumb luck. Whatever the reason, as soon as Harry had barrelled his way through the large door Sirius was there, grabbing his arms and stopping him.

"Oh no you don't you bast – Harry?" Sirius stared at his Godson in astonished recognition. That quickly turned into fear. "Merlin, Harry, what are you doing? The Dursleys are still up – it isn't safe!"

But Harry wasn't listening. As soon as Sirius had mentioned their names a fresh surge of rage overtook him and his common sense was swept completely away.

Sirius swore as he struggled to keep the frantic Harry in his grip. The detached part of Harry could see the dilemma in his eyes. What he really needed to do was stun the young wizard but to get to his wand he'd need to let go and Harry would be off to murder his relatives in a flash.

"Harry, stop it!" he snapped instead, hoping to get through the mist of rage surrounding the Earl. "Think about all our careful plans – you'll ruin them all and we'll all end up in Azkaban!"

Harry laughed bitterly at that. "They're already ruined, Padfoot," he choked through sudden tears. "You see, Earl Potter has already made his appearance at Court in the form of Dudley!"

"Wh- what?"

In his shock, Sirius' vice-like grip on Harry's arms loosened and Harry was off like a shot, racing up the curved staircase and towards his goal. He could hear Sirius swear and the zing of spellwork as it ricocheted off the walls. Harry had always disliked the spiral staircases that riddled the Hollow but now he thanked Merlin for them; Sirius couldn't get a clean shot.

So Harry raced on unhindered towards the drawing room and his treacherous relatives. As he ran thoughts, arguments, angry comments, insults all stumbled around in his head in a messy blur till he almost didn't realise he'd reached the drawing room door. Stumbling to a halt he wrenched open the door, charged in and yelled the first thought that came to mind.

"I am NOT going to let Ginevra marry that _thing_!"

The Dursleys stared at him from where they were sat. Vernon bristled angrily although both he and Dudley looked unsettled by the sight of a deranged Harry.

Petunia on the other hand…

"So you _did_ escape," she commented coolly.

Harry stared at her, taken aback. "What do you mean? You knew!" he snarled. It was only then that he realised that none of the Dursleys had actually looked surprised to see him. Nagging suspicion and worry began to eat away at his anger.

She laughed, an icy thing that sent shivers down Harry's spine and served to cool down even more of his temper. "It's amazing the things you can learn from court gossip," she said eventually. "Dudders and I – or, should I say, _Harry_ and I – had an engagement today with his fiancée at the palace – "

"You mean _my_ fiancée!" Harry interrupted angrily, ignoring the weirdness he felt at 'claiming' Ginevra as his bride.

"You," Petunia sneered, "what in all the world makes you think _you're_ worthy of even speaking to royalty, you miserable, pathetic freak!"

Harry gaped at her, trying to put his anger into words. Luckily, he didn't have to.

"How about because he is by birth Earl Harry James Potter?" an icy voice asked.

Harry whirled around to see that not only Sirius but Remus, Tonks and Hermione behind him. All of them looked furious, wands clenched openly in their fists. At the sight of so many angry and armed witches and wizards Dudley and Vernon whimpered slightly but Petunia didn't budge. Instead she just transferred her glare onto Remus, who had been speaking.

"Because that's who's marrying the Princess, isn't it?" he continued, voice as angry as Harry had ever heard. "Not Dudley Dursley – you had to _steal_ Harry's name to get Dudley in. On your own you just weren't good enough for royalty."

"Shut up!" Petunia shrieked, for the first time coming close to losing her cool. "It was _me_ who did all the arrangements, worked up the contracts, spoke to the palace representatives. Me! And all for that _brat_? Why should _he_ get to connect with royalty just because his father was an important _freak_ whilst Dudley left to scramble in his wake? _Dudley_ deserves this so I took it for him."

"That's why you tried to sell me," Harry realised angrily. He was clenching his fists so tightly he could hear his bones creaking.

Petunia sneered at him. "Well, I couldn't have you in the way when I introduced Dudley to his peers. And, in typical Potter fashion, you couldn't even get imprisoned properly. That whore you call friend managed to squirrel you away." At Hermione's surprised look she added, "Oh, yes, I know all about your little charade, _Countess Ravenclaw_."

"How did you know that was me?" Hermione asked, wand arm shaking. "You didn't… didn't tell – "

"Tell their Majesties their son was mooning over a servant girl?" Petunia finished with a sneer. "My sister sent me letters all about her life, as if I cared what unnatural things that witch was doing. But I read them all, to remind me what she was, and she talked about _quidditch_," she said as though even the word itself was dirty. "All about those stupid games and those equally stupid _names_ that fool of a husband thought up.

"I didn't recognise it at first, when that idiotic woman Brown was gushing about the _heroic_ Prince Ronald and the _mysterious_ Countess he had fallen in love with," Petunia mocked. "But then someone mentioned the woman who had argued with him to set one of the prisoners free and I _knew_. I knew it was you, that you had somehow managed to bewitch everyone into freeing the brat. I don't know what he could see in you, a dirty, ugly cow. But then you're one of _them_, aren't you. You have your devil's ways."

"I – you – that's NOT how it happened!" Hermione shrieked, sparks shooting out the end of her wand she was so furious. Petunia didn't even step back at the flash and Harry wondered for the first time if his Aunt was truly sane. Didn't she realise she was completely surrounded by witches and wizards?

"Very clever, Petunia," Remus said mildly, although he too was shaking with suppressed anger. "But it's all over now. You've lied to the King and Queen; committed a _felony_; there's no hope for you all."

"What are _you_ going to do about it, _werewolf_?" Petunia sneered, no hint of fear in her eyes.

Harry looked at her incredulously. "Aunt Petunia," he said, "you are completely surrounded by wands. We're taking you to the King and Queen right now where they can – and _will _– make you confess."

"Please struggle," Sirius put in darkly, for once his large grin making him look exactly like the feral dog of his animagus form. "No, really – I'd love any excuse to mar that horse face of yours, _my lady_."

"It's over, Aunt Petunia," Harry said triumphantly. "You've lost."

Petunia laughed. "You still don't get it, _boy_," she hissed. "I don't lose. I'm not letting you ruin plans I've had in place for years. And you forget," she added, icy triumphant smile back in place; "_I knew you were coming_."

Before Harry had time to process those words he was hit by a flash of light. He crashed into whoever was behind him with a yell and collapsed onto the floor. Hitting his head hard enough to make his eyes water he heard groaning around him and realised, for the second time that day, he'd been ambushed.

"Thank you, MacNair," he heard his aunt say primly as his vision cleared. "You know what to do with them?"

"Yes, my Lady," a gravelly voice replied and Harry peered up to see a dark robed wizard with a large black moustache and dark, gleeful eyes. When he saw Harry watching him he gave him a kick with his boot making Harry groan in pain.

"Oh, good, you're still conscious," Petunia said and Harry reopened his eyes to see Petunia's face hovering just above him. Her face was twisted into a menacing triumphant expression and Harry realised suddenly that he had _really_ lost, this time. He'd escaped her before; this time she was going to make sure that wherever Harry was, he was never going to get out.

Apparently she could see the defeat in his eyes because her smile widened. "Yes, Potter; it _is_ all over now," she told him quietly. "And _you_ are never going to see the light of day again. I never wanted you, a pebble in my shoe, thorn in my side, but I have to thank you, _Harry_; if it weren't for you, Dudley would never have become a Prince."

And with that she got back to her feet and swept out the room, never once looking back.

As he was tugged to his feet, magically restraints once more clapped onto his fists, he couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. But many things had changed since last week; for one thing, he wasn't fighting. How could he? His aunt had blocked him at every turn without him even realising it. There would be no rescue coming for him because all his potential rescuers – Tonks, Remus, Sirius, Hermione – were all being grabbed and restrained, their wands snapped and pocketed. Sirius wasn't going easily and three of the mysterious dark robed figures pounced on him, punching and kicking him until he stopped moving. Tonks and Hermione were being dragged off, unresisting, although Hermione's face was awash with tears. Remus wasn't fighting either, although he had gone extremely pale. Harry saw why as they turned and dragged him out the room; his handcuffs were pure silver.

Harry felt numb as his guards picked him up and dragged him out the drawing room. He watched the familiar shapes and contours of Godric's Hollow pass him by and realised that the Hollow had never been his. It had always been the Dursleys, from the very day they'd moved in.

Dudley was going to marry Ginevra and that was that.

He felt his stomach clench at that thought. Poor Ginevra, who had been so miserable last night. Again he cursed himself for an idiot. If only he hadn't gone running off like a mindless bull and stayed, told her what they knew, then maybe she and Ronald would have believed them. After all, that's why they were meeting up with them that day; to tell them. If he'd kept his cool then Hermione wouldn't be being thrown down into the kitchen right now; Sirius would be up plotting with Tonks; Remus would be recovering not thrown down into the Wolf Room to slowly die from the poison of its walls.

It was all his fault.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Hermione was shaking.

'_How did I go from such a perfect day to this nightmare?_' she thought miserably, huddled by the fireplace. She was freezing but lacked the will to get up and light the fire. Not to mention they didn't keep any flints down in the kitchen because they all could light a roaring fire with a word.

Not anymore.

She had only been a witch for four of her 17 years but it was amazing how quickly having magic became an intricate part of her. Now she felt completely naked without her wand. She wondered how Harry had coped these past few days without the knowledge that his wand was only a split second away. '_Then again,_' she reminded herself, '_he had other things to think about._'

So, for that matter, did she. She was currently locked, unarmed, in the kitchen of Godric's Hollow where she was awaiting Merlin knew what fate. As she'd been thrown unceremoniously down the steps the man who'd been holding her warned her that she'd better behave or Harry and Sirius would suffer for it.

"Wait!" she'd called after him, struggling back up the stairs, "Where are they? What have you done with them?"

But the door had simply slammed shut in her face.

Now, left alone with her thoughts for several hours, she was berating herself for being such a smug idiot. '_I thought it was going along so nicely,_' she thought, despairingly. '_Petunia would never find out what we're doing, oh no. What idiots we were. All this time and we never realised what _she_ was doing until it was too late and Dudley was firmly embedded at Court as poor Harry. We should have put the pieces together sooner but no, there we were, happily running around Petunia's back thinking we were going to bring her down._' She gave a hollow laugh that quickly turned into hiccups.

A sudden sound from upstairs made her jump and she realised with a start that the sun had risen. As fingers of light lanced their way across the kitchen she decided that she wasn't going to sit there and feel sorry for herself. That noise might have been from one of the Dursleys. Hermione didn't know why she hadn't been taken away like the others but she assumed that Petunia might want to speak to her and she was determined not to give that cow the satisfaction of her tear stained face.

Getting to her feet she stumbled and almost fell from the stiffness and cramp in her limbs; she had been huddled by the fireplace all night. Rubbing her legs until the pain eased Hermione hobbled over to the table to see if any food had been left out from last night. It was as she moved that she discovered the headache.

'_That's right, Hermione, just drink loads of firewhiskey right before you're captured,_' she thought sarcastically. '_There's no way _that_ wasn't a good idea!_'

But not everything firewhiskey related was bad. As she shakily splashed some water over her face her mind flew back to happier times… talking with Ron by the bonfire; the look in his eyes as he asked her to meet him tomorrow; the way his mouth felt on hers…

'_That is the _last_ thing I need to be thinking about right now,_' she told herself, eyes tearing up once more as she realised she would never see the Prince again. '_He'll wait all day for me and I'll never come._'

She allowed herself a moment's reverie before snapping herself back into action. She had bigger things to worry about than a lost love right now, _far_ bigger things. Like, for example, how on _earth_ she was going to save Harry this time when she had no idea where he was or who he was held by. She didn't even know if he was alive.

Then again, that was a problem for another day. First she had to worry about how to save herself.

The door crashed open with a jolt. Hermione jumped and whirled around, head loudly protesting the movement. She ignored the pain and glared up at the dark robed wizard that stood there.

"What do _you_ want?" she snapped, hand reaching for a wand that wasn't there.

The wizard sneered at her. It wasn't the same wizard that had taken Harry away to the King but a different one. Stood to sense, Hermione thought, as the red-robed wizard had been an employ of the King. If he had stood witness to their argument last night he would have overheard Petunia confessing what Hermione had told him was the truth; Harry _was_ the rightful Earl of Godric's Hollow. A King's man he would have been obligated to act on that information and take Petunia and the Dursleys in for questioning.

The man who stood before her today clearly didn't give two hoots about who owned what so he could only be one thing; a mercenary.

"I would be a bit nicer to me, little witch," the mercenary said, walking down the stairs towards her. Under his big black moustache the mouth turned into a twisted smile. "Especially with what I'm doing with _you_ today."

Hermione found her heart hammering and she inadvertently took a few shaky steps back. "What do you mean?"

The grin grew wider. "No, no, my dear; _that_ would be telling." And before she could even blink he reached out and grabbed her. She tried kicking out at him but he just shook her. That, coupled with what could only be described as a hangover, made her head spin so violently it was a wonder she wasn't sick all over him.

As it was she could barely stumble after him as he pulled her up the stairs of the kitchen. In fact, she was so inept that he ended up losing patience and carrying her on his back in a sick parody of how she had carried Ron the day before. That had been a rescue. This was anything but.

She tried to keep her mind focussed on where they were going but the mercenary's jolting footsteps and her growing migraine meant pain blurred her vision. She didn't need to see where they were going; she had a pretty good guess.

She was right.

As her eyes blinked and slowly adjusted to the dim lighting of the drawing room, Hermione's eyes managed to focus on Petunia. She spat at her.

She ignored that pathetic attempt at defiance and signalled for the doors to be closed. "Now, witch," she said, voice cold as ice, "you're going to tell us everything that went on with you and the Prince."

"I won't tell you anything!" Hermione snapped defiantly.

A hand smashed across her face and Hermione felt her head lip split from the force of impact. As the blood trickled down her chin she looked dazedly across at the mercenary.

"No need to be rude, little witch," he said. "I won't tell you anything, _my Lady_."

"Enough, Macnair," Petunia snapped, stepping forward. "I don't want any visible signs. Use your _magic_." She practically shuddered at having to say such a dirty word.

The mercenary scowled but bowed at her. "As you wish, my Lady."

"Now, girl, what were you doing with the Prince and Princess yesterday?"

Hermione pressed her lips together firmly and didn't say anything. Petunia just looked calmly across at Macnair who grinned. Hermione only had time for a moment of foreboding before Macnair raised his wand.

"Crucio!"

It was though a thousand red hot knives were stabbing into her, over and over again. The pain built and built until she was screaming at the top of her lungs and still it wouldn't stop. The knives stabbed and twisted until every single part of her body was a red-hot point of pain. '_Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop, makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitst op…_'

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the pain vanished. Sound and vision suddenly came back to her and she was aware of how loud and heavy her breathing sounded in the sudden quiet. Every limb, every part of her, was shaking, trembling with the after effects of what she'd just been subjected to.

'_The cruciatus curse…_'

As she looked up to glare at Petunia she met blank indifference. Petunia didn't care that she was torturing a fellow human being. Petunia didn't _see_ her as a fellow human being. Petunia saw all servants as dogs; lesser beings put there only to serve her. The fact that she was magical to boot…

"I'll ask you again, you abomination. What were you doing?"

It took all her willpower not to speak, but she managed it. The pain was even worse that time, as though molten lava was running through her arteries instead of blood, burning her from the inside out. When the curse had been lifted that time her stomach roiled and she threw up on the floor. She managed to remain silent through another bout of the curse but then she couldn't keep quiet any longer and the words came tumbling out her mouth.

Petunia listened to it all unblinking, the only time any emotion coming into play was the sneer when Hermione confessed that she and Ron had kissed. When it finished Hermione sat, breathing as heavily as if she'd just run to town and back and feeling embarrassed and ashamed. Petunia just stood there watching her, deep in thought.

"Where is the place you were meeting the Prince today?" she asked finally.

"It lies on the outskirts of Ottery St Catchpole, my Lady," Macnair said when Hermione didn't say anything. "A ruin, now, broken down and good for nothing."

Petunia paused again, eyes flickering as she made her plans. "Girl," she said eventually, "you will go to this Burrow today and meet the Prince as planned. Once there you will tell him that you are engaged to another and are leaving Court immediately. Tell him that you could never love him and that you are going to join you fiancée in Spain and that you are never coming back."

Hermione stared at Petunia, wondering if she had heard her right – or if the Lady had finally gone insane. "You want me to meet the Prince?" she repeated feeling groggy.

Petunia's eyes narrowed. "Don't get any ideas about telling him the truth, girl," she warned. "You're going to do exactly what I say."

"No I bloody well will not!" Hermione snapped. She couldn't do that to Ron, hurt him like that. Besides, Petunia was right; if she saw the Prince then all she was going to do was tell him the truth. The _real _truth.

But Petunia was smiling at her. "Oh yes, my dear, you will. Macnair?"

"Imperius!"

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

As Ron walked through the crumbling walls and rooms of the Burrow he felt a strange sensation of peace run through him. This was not a feeling he was usually accustomed to. Even without all the stress of marriage contracts and moronic Earls, having 5 older brothers _and_ being a Prince brought about its fair share of hassle. But peace was what he was feeling right now and he was determined to not let anything disrupt it.

In a way it felt strange not to have Ginny prattling on at him and insulting him every 2 seconds. She'd been around him so much lately that he'd gotten used to her being around. She had tried to come with him that day as well, but Ron had managed to put his foot down and tell her to bugger off. He'd felt quite guilty doing it as he knew it only came of desperation out of her situation but Ron was pretty sure that the romantic meeting he had planned between himself and Lily would _not_ be added to by a weeping, critical Princess in the bushes.

'_Besides,_' he thought, trying to banish the feelings of guilt that were rising up again, _'I did promise to _ask_ Lily some more._'

Plus there was a very good chance that the King and Queen would murder both him and Ginny if she disappeared from the palace again.

To say that their Majesties hadn't been too happy with them when they'd gotten back the night before was an understatement. It turned out that the Queen had planned a day for the Princess and Earl Potter together and she had not been impressed when _poor_ Potter and his aunt had had to wait around all day for a Princess that never materialised. When his mother had started yelling, Ron unconsciously braced himself for the yelling match that would ensue; Ginny was not one who took anything lying down.

Fortunately for Ron's ears, Ginny was still upset about how the evening had ended, with Lily and Gryffindor fleeing into the night. So, instead of yelling back, she just burst into tears, informed her parents that she hated them and ran off to her room.

Ron didn't think he'd ever seen his parents look so surprised. "Is she alright?" his father asked, staring after her in consternation.

"Apart from the fact you're forcing her to marry a complete prick?" Ron asked, sarcastically.

"We've given her – both of you – a chance," his mother started hotly but the King stopped her. "They know, Molly, dear. Now," he turned his attention to Ron, "where have you been all day?"

"We just went to Durmstrang with some friends," Ron said evasively.

"You left there hours ago, Ronald," his mother said. As he looked at her in surprise she added, "Master Dumbledore told us he'd seen you there."

Ron shrugged. "Well our carriage wheel broke on the way back," he admitted, not sure why he was so reluctant to bring up Riddle and the Death Eaters. He should be shouting if from the rooftops, it was such an achievement, but two things held him back;

It would probably get himself and Ginny – especially Ginny – into more trouble

Ginny had played just as vital a role as he; she should be there to break it to their parents

He was a bit surprised at this kindly feeling he was having to his sister. Usually it was a free for all amongst the Weasley siblings, whoever could best the other at anything. But, as he had told the Countess but a few hours ago, he was a better person since he had met her.

His mother narrowed her eyes at him. "There's more, something you're not telling us."

"Yes," Ron agreed, "there is. But it's late, I'm tired, and Ginny should be here when we talk about it so with your leave, Mum, Dad, I'm going to bed."

And so off he had swept to a restless night's sleep. He had had a long day, with lots of walking, tree climbing, dancing, riding and drinking, but somehow he couldn't sleep. Part of him was worried that if he fell asleep then those amazing moments by the bonfire would disappear and he would forget. He didn't want that first kiss to be hazy and like a dream.

Suddenly he heard a rustling, turned around and felt his breath catch.

Countess Lily was dressed in red and cream today with large skirts that flowed behind her as she picked her way towards him. Best of all; she was clearly no dream. She was real and right there, waiting for _him._ All his careful thoughts disappeared from his mind as she stopped in front of him and gave a small smile. She seemed a little withdrawn but Ron imagined that was due to the hangover she was undoubtedly feeling. He himself had had to beg the palace potions master for his best headache cure. He doubted she had similar access, although she was probably brilliant enough to fix it up herself.

"Hello, Lily," he said nervously.

"Hello," she said quietly.

"Erm… how are you feeling?"

"I'm… well, let's just say I don't feel like myself today."

Ron grimaced. "Ah, the dangers of firewhiskey. Although I should thank Riddle for it – I doubt I would have gotten up the courage to ask you here today without it." He stopped talking immediately, feeling his ears begin to burn. '_What a bloody stupid thing to say, Ronald_,' he berated himself. '_At this rate she'll think you've been back on the firewhiskey!_'

Lily, however, made no comment except to say, "I have something I need to tell you."

"Funny. I've got something to say to you, too," Ron said, nerves making themselves known again. He suddenly remembered he had something to give her and said, "Oh and here." He handed her a large hard-backed book. "In all the confusion you left your new book in the carriage."

She took it, face strangely blank. "Thank you, Your Highness. I can't stay very long but I – I had to see you. I've got a lot to say."

"So have I," Ron said nervously, but after that he couldn't quite seem to form any coherent words. He'd been stood there blooming ages imagining how he would propose and when it came down to it he was completely at a loss. He opened his mouth several times to begin before giving up and asking Lily to accompany him inside the house.

As they walked under the crumbling archway that had once represented the entrance to the Burrow Ron found he was suddenly talking about his past. "My family used to live here," he said, "before… well, before Uncle Gideon abdicated to live in Greece. Since we moved to the palace, well…" he gestured around him at where the nearby forest had suddenly invaded. Trees now grew where their battered furniture had once stood, battling each other for the sun much as Ron, Fred and George had battled for the best teddy bear every evening. As well as trees, small shrubs had taken root alongside their taller brethren and flowers turned the mass of otherwise green, grey and brown into a riot of colour.

Lily smiled as a bird flew out of one of the trees as they approached, trilling noisily to its neighbours about the clumsy human invaders. "It's beautiful," she said wistfully.

"I didn't think so," Ron admitted, leading Lily to where some fallen masonry acted as a bench. "Mum and Dad used to drag us back here every year, to remember how we used to live. I hated those trips. Looking at the crumbling shack, this pathetic excuse for a manor… I was a _Prince_, living in a grand palace. I didn't like thinking that at one point I had been so low.

"Now, however…" he turned and looked at her, taking her hands in his. "I used to look on the Burrow as proof of how far I've come, but since I met you I realise how far I've got to go." He got down on one knee and looked up into her face. "Lily. You are the strangest, most bizarre but most wonderful woman I have ever met. I'm a better person since I met you. You- you inspire me to be more than I ever thought I could be, to realising that caring about others isn't a weakness but an important part of my duty as Prince. When I'm with you… I feel free."

Ron finished in a rush, his face now burnt red with embarrassment. As he searched her face for the first time he felt a twinge of worry. The Countess was looking at him without any emotion, despite the fact that he had just been pouring his heart out to her. He suppressed the unease though; he had to say what he came here to say.

"What I'm trying to say is; Countess Lily Ravenclaw, will you do me the honour of marrying me?"

Her hands jerked in his at that and he looked up to see her staring at him with both shock and, worryingly, sadness. "Why did you have to be so wonderful?" she whispered tearily and then the moment was gone. Her face was closed once more, eyes clear and no emotion anywhere.

"I'm engaged, Your Highness."

This time Ron was the one to jerk. He scrambled to his feet and looked at her aghast, hoping he'd heard her incorrectly. "You – what?"

"I'm engaged, Sire," she repeated slowly. "To a Spaniard. I leave on a boat tonight and have no intentions to come back to England."

Horror was now transforming into anger. "A Spaniard? Why didn't you _tell_ me you were engaged?" '_Oh, what a bloody fool I've made of myself!_'

She just gave him a cool look. "What's done is done, Your Highness."

"Lily…" Ron reached for her hand again but she pulled back. He didn't understand. Ok, so he didn't have a clue about girls but she'd kissed him last night – surely _that_ was a signal even he could read correctly. '_Although I _did_ kiss her… maybe she was too polite to stop me…_' He shook those doubts away. He did not imagine her feelings for him!

"Please, Lily," he said, managing to grab an arm successfully this time. "I don't care if you're engaged. Leave him, come with me – if you don't want to stay at Court, if you want to see Spain that's _fine_. We'll run away together. Just see Spain with me and not _him._ I don't want to lose you." He took a deep breath and said the three words he'd never thought he'd be able to say to anyone. "I – I love you."

Lily didn't say anything. She just looked at him with that same cool, slightly pitying expression. "I wish you well, Your Highness," she said finally, curtsying formally and turning around.

"No, Lily, please! Come back!"

She was gone.

Ron was alone.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

**Authors Note:**

What a depressing chapter. Hermione tortured, the rest of the Potter household take Merlin knows where and Ron having his heart broken by the woman he loves. What. A. Bummer.

Anyway, next chapter will be up soon and you'll be able to see if anything gets a little happier.

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	17. Chapter 16: Ball

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** - '_blah_' = thoughts

- Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**Chapter Sixteen: Ball**

Ginny stared into the mirror and didn't recognise the woman staring back at her. The woman in the mirror was as blank and hollow as a wooden doll. The eyes, shadowed by dark bags, were empty, lifeless to behold.

Around the sides of that blank expression there was lots of bustling movement as maids brushed out her long red hair. She was freshly bathed and covered with a robe whilst the stylist prepared to tease her hair into the current fashion. Behind her the maids chatted quietly, complimenting the Princess on her beautiful hair but Ginny couldn't hear them.

She had woken to a headache that morning, only in part due to the firewhiskey. Most of it, she suspected, had come from crying herself to sleep. The first thing she had done was to go and find Ron to find out what had happened after she'd run away from her parents last night.

"Nothing," he'd said and, when she started pestering him, he'd added, "Really, Ginny – I told Mum that whatever else we had to say we would say it together in the morning."

Ginny was surprised at that. In the past Ron would probably have just taken the credit for the school idea and Ginny would be the one facing the consequences alone. "I don't think I can face them this morning," she'd confessed.

Ron had grimaced. "Well you're going to have to," he'd told her. "I've already seen Mum and it seems Potter's here today to talk to you."

Ginny had blanched. "But – but it's my last day, Ron; _my last day_! How am I going to get out of this if I'm stuck by his side all day?" Ron looked uncomfortable and then she'd remembered what he'd said the night before. "Ron, you've _got_ to take me with you!" she'd said desperately. Whatever funny business had gone on at the end of last night she was _sure_ if she had another chance to speak to the Countess everything would be alright.

Ron had stared at her like she'd grown an extra head. "No bloody way, Ginny!"

"Come on, Ron, I'll be really quiet!"

"No!" Ron had repeated, slowly turning red. "I can't – not while you're watching – no!"

Ginny had glared at him angrily and stalked off, leaving him watching after her awkwardly. She'd calmed down a bit since then and realised that it was completely unfair of her to keep pushing herself on Ron when he obviously just wanted to talk to his lady.

Jealously and resentment suddenly surged their way upwards but Ginny clamped them down. She couldn't begrudge Ron his Countess, although it was very hard work. Then again she wasn't sure how she could look at the older girl again after she and James had shunned her the night before.

James expression as she'd told them of her problems suddenly floated into existence in front of her eyes. It had been dark but even so the shock, horror and pure fury on his face had been hard to miss. That anger had hurt her even more than Lily's quick exit. She just wasn't sure _why_.

Ginny closed her eyes, fighting back tears. It was ridiculous. She barely knew either of them but somehow in the space of a few days – hours, even – they'd managed to worm their way into her small circle of friends. She hadn't really had many friends before. The majority of the noble ladies were idiots, quite frankly, and Ginny couldn't respect them enough to be friends with them. Some of the noble men she got along with a little better but they always came attached to scheming mothers, aunts or grandmothers.

With the Countess she had finally found a friend, someone she would have quite happily called sister. Even though Ginny knew it probably was nothing to do with her, she couldn't help seeing Lily's abandonment as a betrayal.

And James… Truth be told Ginny wasn't quite sure what he meant to her. All she knew was that she was hurting; a lot.

When Ron had arrived back home later on that afternoon, change of heart or no, she was fully intending to rip into him for not rescuing her from another day of Potter hell. The stupid feather was back today although the sword had yet to make an appearance after Ron had embarrassed the oaf that first day.

She didn't know if it had been the fact that the official engagement announcement was imminent or just that he'd eaten a fat ton of sugar but Earl Potter had been very happy that day. Not that he'd actually managed to carry off a proper conversation with her, but every now and then she'd catch this gleeful expression on his face that made him shudder.

The only _good_ thing about today's rendezvous was the absence of Dursley. However much Potter disgusted her, Dursley just made her skin _crawl_. When asked for his aunt's absence, Potter had just grinned and said that his aunt was 'dealing with staffing issues'.

Ginny had felt cold at that. '_I hope that's not the poor maid,_' she thought, thinking back to what she'd let slip at the marketplace two days ago. That was all she needed to make herself feel better; guilt at getting someone fired.

So with Ginny feeling withdrawn, Potter a complete prat and no Dursley to chatter incessantly time actually seemed to run backwards, it went by so slowly. By the end of the appointment Ginny was ready to face down a dragon, she was so angry.

Exiting the room as though she were racing for freedom, Ginny had immediately headed down towards the stables. Rules be _damned,_ she was getting hold of a broomstick if she had to knock out every single auror to do it!

"Ron!" Ron's red hair was quite unmistakeable in the haze of browns, blacks and blondes. She was surprised to see him back so soon but surprise quickly turned into anger. _He_ was the reason she'd had such an awful afternoon, after all. If only he'd taken her with him! "Ron, I'm going to _kill_ you, you wouldn't believe the utterly sh – bloody Merlin, Ron, what's wrong?"

As Ron had turned to face her Ginny's anger vanished and she was left with a stomach-clenching worry. Ron's face, which had been radiating happiness for the last few days, looked desolate. His mouth was turned down in a sulky grimace and his eyes… '_Merlin's balls, has he been _crying_?!'_

"It's…" he started and then stopped.

"Is it Lily?" He started at her name and then looked at the floor miserably.

"She's engaged."

Whatever Ginny had been expecting it was not that! "She's – you what?"

"Engaged," Ron repeated gloomily, kicking a loose stone. "To a Spaniard."

"To a – that's impossible. There has to be some mistake!"

Ron gave a hollow laugh. "That's what I thought, but no; she's travelling by boat this afternoon. She didn't say much about it."

Ginny made a disbelieving noise. "And I can see why. I can't believe this – engaged? If she was betrothed then she bloody well should have said!"

"I know!" Ron agreed. "Who _does_ things like that?"

'_We do,_' Ginny thought suddenly, feeling guilty. But their situation was totally different. They were only engaged _if_ they couldn't find someone to love. They weren't necessarily being deceptive just… withholding a few facts.

For some reason James' furious expression from the night before once again swam into her head. Then the thought connected. "Oh – oh, bloody hell; last night!" she swore, waving her hands in frustration. When Ron just looked at her blankly she elaborated; "Last night when I mentioned being engaged and they ran off… all this time I thought it was because of something _I'd_ done…" Ginny sighed. "Maybe she realised what she was doing and went away before it could go any further."

"What do you mean 'realised' what she was doing?" Ron asked incredulously. "How can you bloody forget that you're engaged to someone else?"

"I did," Ginny reminded him gently. "All yesterday, I did everything I could to forget about Potter. That evening when I was talking to James I should have been talking to Lily. But I didn't because thinking about my _fiancée _was horrible and I was enjoying myself." Ginny shrugged. "Maybe she doesn't love her fiancée. Maybe it's an arranged marriage, just like ours are, and she wanted a way out."

"She still should have told me."

Ginny laughed bitterly. "Like you told her about France?"

Ron blustered indignantly. "That's different!"

"No, Ron, it isn't." Ginny sighed, anger completely gone now to be replaced by a hollow sadness. It seemed that everyone she met was bound to be miserable in love. She, Ron and Lily all married off to people they didn't love. And if the bright, intelligent Lily couldn't think of a way out of her own unhappy fate, how on earth would Ginny?

"There you are, Your Highness."

The voice of the stylist brought Ginny back to herself in an instant. She blinked and saw that the reflection in the mirror had changed. Not the hollow, dead doll staring out at her, but the doll's hair. Now it had been curled into tight ringlets and pinned to her head in a style that made it look as though loose curls were just tumbling out of place. Small pearls glowed softly from where they had been dotted and it was all offset by her heavy white-gold and pearl tiara.

"It looks lovely," Ginny responded by matter of rote. Satisfied, the stylist moved off to grab the makeup.

Unbidden, Ginny's glance caught on a small wooden box on the table and she felt tears prick at her eyes again. Inside was a brand new wand, made from phoenix feather and holly. She had thought it would be harder to convince Ollivander to part with one of his new wands but she had forgotten that she had saved his life in the woods. He hadn't even asked many questions, just about the owner she had in mind (wands, she was told, were tricky customers).

She could have given the box to Ron when he went to see Lily but she had held back. It was _she_ who had promised James a new wand, after all; _she_ who had gone to Ollivander and chosen one. She wanted to give it to him, to see his eyes light up at the gift, to see him smile. Now, because she had been silly, James would never get the wand.

A Princess always keeps her promises, but this was one that would have to remain undone.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

If Hermione thought she had cried a lot the night before that was nothing to now. When she had walked out of the Burrow Macnair was ready for her. Still under the effects of the curse he had simply grabbed her arm and side-along apparated her back to Godric's Hollow.

Petunia was waiting for them.

"It's done?" she enquired. Macnair nodded. She smiled triumphantly. "Good. Throw the witch back in the kitchen and take the curse off. I want her to _feel_ what she's just done."

Hermione was ashamed to admit that as soon as the curse had come off she'd nearly begged Macnair to put it back. Being under the Imperius curse was like floating on some heavenly cloud where your worries didn't seem important. In fact nothing really mattered under the curse; it was an awful lot like peace.

But when the spell had been taken away the outside world roared back on in, a confusing mess of noise, aches and hurt. "Oh Merlin… Ron," she whispered and burst into tears.

It was as though the scene was being replayed back in slow motion; the elated smile when he'd first seen her; how he'd remembered her book in all the stupid confusion of yesterday; how he had shared his memories with her; how he had got down on one knee.

How he had told her he loved her.

She had seen all this already, of course. Under the Imperius curse she was completely aware of what was going on but just didn't care about it. When Ron had handed her the book she'd felt nothing but dull confusion. As he had poured out his worries the words just slid into her brain and then out again.

She'd almost broken the curse, once. When he had proposed to her it was as if that jolted her briefly from her insulating bubble. But the moment had been too brief and she hadn't been strong enough; she had lost.

She didn't know how long she sat there, feeling miserable and full of self-loathing, the remnants of the Imperius curse pressing on her mind like a slick oil. Time didn't seem to matter anymore. Everything was lost, anyway, what did the passing of the hours count for?

"Psst!"

Hermione jumped, jolted almost as suddenly from her cloud of misery as she had been from the Imperius curse. She looked up at the door, half-expecting to see Macnair waiting again. She shuddered involuntarily as ghost sensations from the cruciatus ran down her limbs.

"Hermione!"

Hermione frowned. '_Where is that coming – Merlin's saggy pants!'_

"Merlin's saggy pants!" she repeated out loud, mouth dropping open. "Tonks? How did you – I don't… are the others with you?"

The metamorphmagi grimaced as she squinted down at Hermione through the kitchen's tiny windows. "Turned my fingers into keys," she grunted and waggled the aforementioned appendages at Hermione. Whatever they were, they certainly didn't resemble fingers. All of them were a strange purple-green and none of them were in a straight line.

"Into – Tonks, that's genius!"

"Bloody idiotic, more like," she winced. "Broke every bloody one to do it."

Hermione's eyes widened. No wonder they didn't look much like fingers anymore. '_Wait… broken all of them – that means…_'

"I can't get you out, Hermione, I'm sorry," Tonks said, confirming her fears. "I tried to get Remus but…" She looked away and Hermione realised she was crying. "They put him in the Wolf Room, Hermione," she whispered. "I went to try and open the door but there doesn't even seem to _be_ a door anymore. That bastard wizard must have done something. He'll _die_ in there, Hermione – what do I do?!"

Hermione stared up at her friend aghast. Silver wasn't as poisonous to Remus in his human form as it was for his wolf form but it would still be working away at him. He was still weak from the last full moon and all the extra work everyone had been doing. If they didn't get him out soon…

"Go to the Prince!" Hermione said suddenly, inspiration striking. "Tell him what's happened!" Then recent events caught up to her. "No… wait." She sighed. She could not rely on Ron to come racing to her rescue or even listen to anything remotely connected to her. Nor could she rely on Ginevra. '_Well, that was a short lived plan_,' she thought miserably. Then…

"The Lady Luna! Luna Lovegood – go to her!" Hermione instructed. "I'm sure she'll listen to you."

Tonks looked at her incredulously. "A lady, listen to the likes of me?" she said slowly. "You've got to be joking."

"Lady Luna _will_ listen to you, trust me," Hermione insisted. Of course, she wasn't entirely too sure the other girl would actually _do_ anything with the information but she would listen. And if she was listening, maybe she could pass the information along to Ron or Ginevra. Or even Dumbledore. For a split second Hermione considered telling Tonks to find Dumbledore instead. In the end she stuck with Lady Luna; she was the known element in all this. And even if all she did was come back with Tonks… well, she had a wand, didn't she?

"How will I know her?" Tonks asked, seemingly resigned to the plan.

Despite the miserable situation they were in, Hermione couldn't help but grin at that. "Trust me; you'll know her."

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

Ron twirled Ginny gracefully around the dance floor and tried to not look as miserable as she did. It was a difficult feat; it was like a great big black sticky pit of despair had opened up underneath him and was trying to suck him down. Everything felt heavy and slow and he was sure that his usually poor dance performances were even more awful than usual.

Of course it didn't help that he'd been forced into this ridiculous costume. Ron wasn't quite sure who was responsible for designing and making the royal outfits for this particular ball but he was pretty sure the bastard hated him.

Either that or they were just sadists.

The dragon was one of the most magnificent magical creatures that existed. It was glorious and awe-inspiring but a good costume choice it was not. For starters the costume was tight to the point of blood constriction. Not helping with that – or his dance moves – was the tail that had been attached to his costume. Luckily it wasn't sticking right out from his back but it _was_ spiralled very tightly around his leg.

And then there was the mask.

'_Yeah… I'm not going to think about that_.'

Ginny had been luckier than him in the costume front. Her elegant white, pearl and silver unicorn costume was simple and the mask even more so; just a single silver horn spiralling above a plain white mask. Although she looked beautiful, however, the eyes behind the mask were dead.

Ron felt his heart going out to his younger sister. He had never seen her look so utterly broken before. Ginny was a pain in the arse, but that was what made Ginny Ginny. Now the fire had gone from her eyes and her dance steps were as wooden and unfeeling as his own.

Ron felt as though he should be comforting her. Problem was, he was never good with words at the best of times and this was an exceptionally _bad_ time. He wanted to comfort her but more likely what he would end up doing is angering her or, even worse, make her burst into tears.

He didn't feel like he could handle tears right now.

As they continued to make their methodical way around the dance floor he did see _one_ sight which lifted his spirits; in the middle of the dance floor, seemingly unaware of all the courtiers watching, Lady Lovegood was leaping and spinning around a rather bemused Neville. As Ron watched the Lady managed to spin Neville right round and shot off a small stream of bubbles to encircle him.

"That's the first time you've smiled this evening."

Ron looked down at his sister. "I don't know how anyone _could_ watch that and not grin; she's off her bloody rocker."

Ginny too managed a small smile at that. "I think it's more like she doesn't care what people think about her so she isn't held back." She sighed wistfully. "I hate to think what Mum and Dad would do if either of _us_ started prancing around like that."

"Hopefully disown us," Ron said. "Maybe we should try it?"

She even managed a laugh at that one and Ron felt pleased. "Oh look; I've found someone who finds it very possible to scowl at Luna," Ginny said suddenly, small laugh turning into a full on snigger. "Neville's grandmother doesn't look at all happy."

As Ron changed direction he suddenly had a clear shot of where the Dowager Duchess Longbottom did indeed look extremely put out. She was stood off to one side, surrounded by a gaggle of elderly courtiers, all staring aghast at the debacle occurring on the dance floor. If looks could kill, Neville would have been dead and buried.

"Did Neville ask her on purpose to annoy her, do you think?" Ron asked, now getting a view of Neville and Luna doing some strange parody of a tango.

Ginny frowned. "As much as Neville likes getting one up on his grandmother he wouldn't be so cruel to mislead a lady like that," she said. "More likely _she_ asked him." Ginny gave a wicked grin. "Either that or he actually likes her."

They both laughed at that. The thought of mild-mannered sensible Neville liking the illogical, crazy Luna was quite ridiculous.

And then suddenly the laughter stopped.

Earl Potter's costume was not much better than his own although, unlike the Prince, Potter seemed quite proud of it. As they danced their way into his sights the monstrous antlers angled towards them and underneath the stag mask Potter's expression was one of pure greed.

Underneath Ron's Ginny's hand tensed slightly. He squeezed her hand in comfort. "Want me to dance the next one with you, too?"

Her head barely moved as she nodded. "Please."

So Ron whirled her away, trying not to think of how he'd imagined dancing at the ball only that morning. '_Maybe I deserve France,_' he thought, sadly. '_Can't even get the woman I love to come to a stupid ball._' He ignored the fact that she was engaged; if he stopped to think about _that_ then likely he would break down in tears right there on the dance floor.

So instead he just carried on, dancing the night away in sadness.

**Authors Note:**

Still pretty depressing, but yay! Tonks is free! This can only be good. Right? Right? O.O

Also got to the end and realised that, aside the above, nothing has really happened. Everyone's just thought about things they _have_ done or that happened some time else. Fear not; there should be quite a bit more 'doing' things happening in the next chapter! That's probably why it's so much shorter than the other chapters!

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	18. Chapter 17: Phoenix

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** - '_blah_' = thoughts

- Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**Chapter Seventeen: Phoenix**

Nymphadora Tonks was not the stealthiest of people. Her mother thought it was due to a divine sort of balancing act; she had such amazing magical gifts in form of her metamorphmagi ability that something had to be taken away to compensate. Tonks thought it ironic that something to help keep her 'balanced' was the inability to _keep_ her balance.

As for Tonks' view on the matter, she just got on with it, resigned to the fact that she would always be falling flat on her face. She had once, after overhearing a customer's comment, even tried to give herself two left feet.

It had _not_ been a good idea.

Whatever the reason for Tonks' innate klutziness, she resigned herself to a rather horrendous journey. The number of trips and falls she took increased tenfold if she was hurt, nervous, hungry or trying to be unnoticed.

In other words, everything she was trying to do right now.

It had been a very long day locked in the manor's wine cellar. As she'd been dragged there her head had been spinning like crazy, courtesy of the confundus charm she'd been hit by. Consequently it took quite a while for her to be able to think of anything at all and even longer to think of anything coherently.

She had got the general gist of what was going on – Dudley impersonating Harry at the palace – but everything had happened so quickly… She'd been chatting quietly with Remus in the kitchen, trying to keep their minds off where Hermione was. She'd been gone a lot longer than they were expecting and, what was worse, Petunia had asked where she was. Remus had to quickly make up some lie about taking some farming equipment into town to be repaired. Tonks wasn't sure Petunia had believed him.

Well, duh.

Anyway, they'd heard a commotion from the entrance hall and had raced upstairs only to see Sirius roaring in frustration and several smoking spell craters in the walls.

"What – " Tonks had started to say but Sirius just raced off up the spells.

"Intruders?" Remus had questioned, already moving after his best friend.

Tonks opened her mouth to respond but stopped as a red-faced, breathless Hermione shot through the door. She, too, didn't pause, just gasped out something about Harry and the Dursleys and raced on up the stairs. Remus and Tonks exchanged glances and then followed suit.

And then there she was, trapped in an airless, pitch black cellar with no idea what was going on.

'_You blooming idiot, Nymphadora,_' she had cursed herself. '_All that time you were at the palace and you didn't notice _anything_?'_

But of course she hadn't; Petunia was too smart for that. Before they'd barely passed the Palace gates she had ordered Tonks stop and let them out. Tonks had always been surprised at that as usually they travelled as far as physically possible in the carriage to save Dudley any unnecessary exercise. But, like an idiot, she had assumed that it was all because of _her_; that Petunia was embarrassed as per usual to be seen as employing such an 'abomination' for her servant.

So not being allowed into the palace proper, that _clearly_ wasn't her fault. She had to obey Petunia and Petunia was sneaky enough to bar her access.

'_But I _still_ could've heard something,_' Tonks had thought gloomily. '_Nearly everybody in the Palace goes through the stables at one point. I was in a prime spot to gather information and what did I do? I mooned over the bloody aurors._'

_There was something about the way the golden gild glinted in the sun; how the purple robes flickered as the aurors moved; most of all, the way they used magic without censure or fear._

_To say that Tonks was content with her life would be an outright lie. Indeed, she would have to be certifiably insane to have felt that way. Who could be happy under the thumb of the cruellest, most vindictive human beings in the world? The only reason she had stayed was for her family and because Harry would one day take back what was rightfully his._

_And that time _was_ imminent. Tonks had never given much thought to what she wanted to do after the Dursleys before; it had always seemed like a far-off dream. But that dream was rapidly turning to reality and she found she was thinking about it more and more._

"_What do you have to do to become an auror?" she asked a group of passing aurors._

_As they turned to face her in surprise one of the aurors looked her up and down, a derisive look on his face. "You need to go back in time, be born to a family that's actually important and apply four years ago. Oh, and be a man."_

_Some of his companions laughed at that and Tonks found herself going red – with anger or embarrassment she wasn't sure. She opened her mouth to say something rude but a deep voice barked at the auror first._

"_Well then, Dawlish, might I suggest _you_ go back in time and arrange to be born with some brains? And some manners, too."_

_The rest of the aurors had roared with laughter at that and Tonks had turned to grin at her defender._

_The auror in question was big and bulky with muscles. His dark eyes twinkled at her in amusement but his expression otherwise remained disapproving as he stared down the first auror._

_Dawlish flushed red and he scowled at the second auror but made no response. Instead he motioned to his companions and they left. The second auror watched them go and then turned back to Tonks._

"_I apologise for me Auror Dawlish, ma'am," he said, bald head gleaming in the sun. "He could do with a few more bumps to the head in training."_

_Tonks found herself laughing. "Reckon if you bump him anymore he won't have any brain left."_

_The auror laughed. "Unfortunately true," he agreed. "Why do you want to join the aurors, ma'am? We don't normally take women; it is a hard life."_

"_My life _now_ is hard," Tonks countered. "But things are… changing and I'm looking for something else. Something _worthwhile_."_

_The auror considered her carefully. "Being an auror _is_ worthwhile," he said slowly, "but it's not something to join lightly. You need to be a trained witch or wizard to start off with; we don't offer training."_

"_Not a problem," Tonks said, getting out her wand and giving it a quick flick. Immediately a flock of sparrows flew out of her wand and soared off, twittering happily. The auror watched them go expressionless._

"_Interesting," he said finally. He turned back to look at her. "I'm not promising anything, ma'am, but if that change you're expecting _does_ happen come and see me." He started to walk off but then spun around again. "And I'm Shacklebolt, Auror Captain."_

Thinking back on that short encounter now was a painful experience. That brief moment of time when everything had been getting better seemed like a million miles away. Now her dream of being an auror was dashed to pieces.

Tonks didn't know how long she'd laid there, miserable guilty thoughts circling round. It must have been quite a while because eventually she drifted off and fell into dreams just as confusing and despondent. When Tonks had jolted awake however it was as though someone had lit a fire in her.

'_Right,_' she had told herself firmly. '_I am _not_ going to sit here and be miserable and pathetic. I'm bloody well going to find a way out of here and rescue everyone._'

At the time she didn't have any real idea how. In fact as she stumbled her way to the door she only held vague ideas of forcing out some kind of wandless magic. That had been spectacularly unsuccessful and only resulted in giving her a headache and making her thirsty. Unfortunately the Dursleys hadn't thought to provide anything as humane as food or water in her little prison so she had to feel around until she found a bottle of wine.

The fact that the idea to turn her fingers into keys came only after she'd had a fair bit of wine should have been an indication of how idiotic her plan actually was.

'_Yep, _definitely_ not one of my better ideas,_' Tonks acknowledged as she tripped over a loose stone and flung a purpling hand out to catch herself. Her vision almost completely blacked out at the pain but she ignored it. She was their only hope!

As luck would have it town was absolutely heaving. The absence of guards and influx of servants meant that the taverns were fit to burst with patrons and Tonks was forced to take an extra circuitous route to avoid any unwanted company. As a result, by the time she'd reached the outskirts of the palace Tonks was close to passing out with exhaustion. She'd had those few sips of wine in the cellar and Hermione had slipped her some stale bread but it was precious little.

'_So,_' Tonks thought, '_I've managed to get across town without being attached, getting lost or breaking a leg: now I just need to break into the palace._

'_Bollocks.'_

She'd managed to sneak her way up the incline towards the main palace gate. A set of guards – 4 ordinary, one auror – were stopping the few latecomers and checking the carriages and their passengers. Luckily they were too distracted to notice Tonks as she crouched rather ineffectively behind a pillar. Surprise, surprise, the entranceway to the palace wasn't particularly well built for sneaking.

A voice groaned nearby.

Tonks jumped and looked around fearfully before realising the sound had come from below. Running underneath the bridge was a small lane for the servants entrance and it was from here that the noise had come.

Leaning over the edge, Tonks snorted and barely refrained from laughing out loud. An auror, unable to hold it in, was relieving himself against the wall, completely unaware of his audience. As he shifted his head slightly Tonks' glee increased ten-fold: it was Dawlish.

"Wotcher!"

It was amazing how many random bits of rock littered the palace way. What was even more amazing was how Tonks managed to hit Dawlish right on the head with 8 broken fingers.

As Dawlish crumpled to the ground, bemused expression still on his face, Tonks was already backtracking. Scrambling down to the lower level she prayed that she reached the comatose auror before any other guard appeared.

For the first time that journey she was in luck. Painfully stripping Dawlish of his robe she somehow managed to shove his saggy body into one of the regular recesses and blew out the nearest torches. If everything went according to plan nobody should miss him till morning.

Shrugging on the purple robes Tonks hesitated for the first time when she felt Dawlish's wand. If she took the wand then she wouldn't need to find Lady Lovegood; she could free Remus and Hermione on her own.

'_And then what?_' Tonks thoughts, torn. '_It's a bloody big country – how are you going to find Harry and Sirius?_' She refused to believe they were dead; life was depressing enough as it was.

In the end she decided to leave the wand. They were going to need the support of the nobility and theft probably wasn't the smartest way to go.

Having carefully and regretfully placed Dawlish's wand back with his unconscious body, Tonks screwed up her face in concentration. Slowly her features began to change; bones lengthened; cartilage rearranged itself; her mousy hair lightened and seemed to retreat back in her head.

The eyes, when they opened, were a watery blue.

2 minutes later Tonks walked past the guards at the fate. None of them so much as glanced her way.

She was in.

_~Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~_

A royal ball involved a lot of careful thought and even more money to put on. It was, after all, a way for the English to show off to their neighbouring royals their affluence, artfulness and creativity. They also had to satisfy the rather high expectations of its noble guest list so it was not unheard of for their Majesties to spend several thousand galleons.

Rumour had it the one before last had cost in excess of one hundred thousand galleons.

Tonks didn't know how much this one had cost the crown but she was willing to bet it wasn't far off that excessive figure. She knew she should be keeping an eye out for the 'unmistakable' Lady Lovegood but she'd defy anyone _not_ to be distracted by the extravagance on display.

Magical streams of sparkling multi-coloured light flowed down from the walls of the palace into the courtyard, criss-crossing the open air in a riot of colour. Tables piled high with dishes of every kind were dotted around the space and Tonks quickly managed to snag a small pastry which she ate as best she could as she wandered around. There were also different entertainers in every corner; acrobats, jugglers, dancers and actors. Tonks even spied some young wizards performing charms for some of the delighted muggle nobility. She suspected they'd been pulled from Durmstrang for the evening.

Despite Hermione's assumptions that she would easily find Lovegood Tonks was not so certain. For starters the younger witch hadn't mentioned that it was a masque ball. As Tonks made her way through the throng she came face to face with horses, peacocks, rabbits, dogs, lions, elephants and even a fish. She rather felt like a fish herself, gaping at all the bizarre costumes and finery.

The other reason Tonks was struggling was because she kept being distracted by the pain in her fingers. The ball was extremely crowded and, try as she might, people kept bumping into her and jostling her broken digits.

'_Maybe I _should_ have tried healing my fingers after all,_' she thought miserably. Problem was she was blooming awful at healing charms at the best of times, let alone when trying to use a stranger's wand with broken fingers.

'_Bollocks!_'

Someone bumped forcefully into her then, strange cane they were carrying rapping forcefully on her mutilated fingers as they brushed past. The pain from that encounter caused her vision to black out completely and her head spin like crazy.

As she struggled backwards, trying to regain her balance and fearing to be crushed, she was unexpectedly rescued.

Vision clearing, Tonks looked up into what was the most elaborate masque she had seen yet.

A large curved beak covered the stranger's nose and either it was enchanted or it was covered in real gold. The beak flowed seamlessly into the crimson visage of a regal bird complete with a crest of luxuriant feathers almost as tall as Dudley's ridiculous feather. Judging by the fact that the whole masque was on fire, Tonks assumed the bird was a Phoenix.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Behind the gold-rimmed eye holes blue eyes looked at her with concern.

"Oh, erm, yes, just fine. Um, sir," Tonks responded, getting her weight fully back on her feet. "Thank you."

"I did not think they let women join the aurors," the man commented mildly, although his eyes gazed at her sharply.

'_Women – oh, bollocks!_' Tonks swore again. It didn't take much to maintain a metamorphic change in the ordinary way of things. However it did take _something_ and in her brief-moment of black-out the Dawlish guise had melted away. '_I hope he didn't see…_'

"Erm, well, it's a trial, my Lord. New century and all." Before the wizard could rip her pathetic lie to shreds she rushed on. "I'm actually looking for someone – do you know her? The Lady Lovegood?"

She thought the blue eyes looked surprised at that but it was hard to tell with the flames wavering around his cheeks.

"I do know her, ma'am," was all he said. "You will find her on the dance floor." Beneath the golden beak his mouth quirked up in a small smile. "She's quite hard to miss, actually; she came as the Sun."

Tonks heaved a great sigh of relief. "Thank you, my Lord," she said, bowing, and then turning about face began edging her way to the dance floor. As she went she slowly, painfully, altered her features once more. Although she was in the palace already she couldn't risk Petunia spotting her; it was safer this way.

"Merlin's beard…"

The dance floor was the most beautiful, graceful thing she'd ever seen. Multi-coloured couples swirled around in perfect unison, skirts flaring on spins to create the impression of a wave-ridden sea. A unicorn and dragon swept past her in a dazzling array of pearls, rubies and emeralds but Tonks only had eyes for one couple.

Tonks was not quite sure who Lady Luna Lovegood had managed to get to accompany her to the ball but she was pretty sure he was very brave. Well, either that or completely clueless.

Lovegood's mask more resembled the elaborate headdresses explorers had brought back from the new world than the delicate masques her peers were wearing. A full sun covered her face, only a small section cut out for her mouth. Rather worryingly there was no space cut out for her eyes but judging from the way she was twirling around her partner some sort of enchantment was in place to compensate. From her headdress down she was clad in a shimmering gown that shifted colours constantly from bright yellow to orange in a mimicry of the sun.

Her outfit was also on fire.

Tonks steeled herself a moment and then launched herself into the dancing, swirling crowd. It took a few stepped toes and several eye-watering collisions but eventually she fought her way through.

"Lady Lovegood, I must speak to you," she called, voice low as she could make it.

The sun stopped dancing and she and her partner turned to look at her. It was very disconcerting to stare at a blank flaming fireball instead of a face and Tonks shifted uncomfortably. She wasn't used to being unable to get a read on someone and it unnerved her greatly.

The Lady seemed to be inclined to listen at the very least. "Neville, why don't you get some drinks for you Grandmother," she said, looking over to her partner. "She looks as though she's suffering from a case of apoplexy." Underneath the headdress the Lady's mouth curved up into a small smile.

'Neville', however, frowned at Tonks. To tie in with his partner the noble had come dressed as the moon. His mask was a lot smaller and whilst his robes were enchanted they simply glowed with a faint pearlescent light rather than being ablaze with flames. "What's your name?" he asked suspiciously. "I've never seen you before."

'_Great, just great,_' Tonks thought, wishing she had changed back completely into Dawlish. "I'm new, my Lord. My name's" – '_Crap, think of a name!'_ – "Hufflepuff. Edward."

Neville continued to stare at her; no matter how soft and luminous the costume was his expression remained just as unyielding and Tonks started to sweat.

"It's alright, Neville," Lady Luna interjected dreamily. "A storm has many instruments."

From the look on Neville's face he didn't understand that any better than she did but he sighed and let it go. "I'll be by the acrobats, my Lady," he said eventually and, with one last warning look to Tonks, bowed and left.

Turning back to Lady Lovegood in relief Tonks had a moment of panic when she seemed to have disappeared. Luckily a person dressed in bright yellow and set on fire was quite easy to find. Tonks shot off after her, starting another round of tripping and apologies.

When the Lady finally stopped she had led Tonks into a corridor running just off the main courtyard. There were enough people around that it wasn't completely isolated but the noise of the party was much quieter. As she turned to face Tonks, the latter suddenly realised she had no idea how to phrase what she wanted to say. She'd been thinking about it almost the entire journey over but when she had caught sight of all the glamour and riches of the ball all her fine arguments had fled.

As Tonks was struggling with words Lovegood reached up to remove her headdress. Underneath the fiery orb was a girl with straw-coloured hair, dreamy blue-grey eyes and a vacant expression. Tonks felt her confidence drop significantly.

"May I offer you some dandelion paste?"

"Some what?" Tonks responded, baffled. Too late she realised that she'd forgotten to lower her voice but the Lady didn't take any notice.

"Some dandelion paste," Lovegood repeated. "Wrackspurts don't like the taste. It's not as good as fending them off physically but the last time I tried to help like that it didn't go so well." She looked very sad at that.

"I, er… no thank you?" Tonks said, only slightly less bewildered. She gave herself a shake and decided to take the plunge before Lovegood confused her anymore. "I've come from Her – er, ladyship, Countess Ravenclaw," she carried on, only just remembering the pseudonym in time. "She's in danger and she needs your help – I don't know what will happen otherwise. The… some acquaintances attacked us and have locked her away along with…" Tonks' voice choked on Remus' name. "I tried to rescue them but, well…" Tonks lifted up her swollen fingers. "She sent me to find you for help." Lovegood didn't say anything right away. Tonks was becoming desperate. "I know it sounds bloody insane and you don't know me but – "

"Alright."

Tonks stopped mid-sentence and stared in astonishment at Lovegood. "A-Alright?" she stuttered, surprised. "I didn't think you'd believe me."

Lovegood gave her another dreamy smile. "We see very little, that's true, but I see enough."

"Erm…" Tonks wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to do with that. She settled on ignoring it. "Great. We need to get back to the estate as soon as possible, we don't have much time." She hesitated. "Um, I don't have any horses, my Lady… I don't suppose you…?"

"We won't need horses, auror," the Lady replied mysteriously before her eyes flickered over Tonks' shoulder.

Tonks whirled around and almost leapt backwards in fright before the burning figure resolved itself back into the wizard who had helped her earlier.

"Sorry, my dear, I didn't mean to startle you," he said, removing his masque to reveal an elderly white-haired man.

"Well what do you expect if you sneak up on people?" she snapped without thinking. She immediately went red but the wizard's smile just widened.

"Well said, auror," he chuckled. "Although you look different from when last we met."

'_Bollocks._'

"I, er – "

"I'm sure you were just doing it to protect your mistress," the wizard brushed it off. "Loyalty is an admirable trait."

"Oh. Erm…"

"First things first, auror-who-is-not-an-auror, let's fix those fingers." Without waiting for a response he pulled out his wand and waved it over Tonks' hands. The immediate sensation of relief made her realise just exactly how much they'd been paining her before. She stared down at her newly fixed appendages and almost cried with relief; she had been trying not to think about it but the purple and swollen sausages that had once been fingers had been greatly worrying her. What if she left it too long and they couldn't be fixed, even magically? "And the next is to go rescue the lovely Countess Ravenclaw," the wizard continued, waving away Tonks' stumbling thanks. "Can you picture clearly the location in your mind?"

"Yes, but – "

"Excellent; hold onto my arm please."

Lovegood immediately latched onto the wizard's left arm but Tonks just stared, feeling slightly blown away. "Wait – why are you helping us?" she asked, finally managing to get a word in edgewise. She ignored the little voice in her head that was screaming '_Who cares?!_'

The wizard looked at her seriously for a moment. "My dear, you were obviously infiltrating the palace under some guise," he said. "It would be remiss of me to let you wander around unsupervised, especially when you enquired after my Goddaughter who has been on the end of two kidnapping attempts."

"You followed me?" Tonks asked, more surprised than angry. "I didn't see you."

"Let's just say I have ways of making myself invisible," the wizard said with a faint smile. "And to answer your original question I am helping you because you need it and because my Goddaughter believes you."

Tonks studied him carefully for a minute before reaching out her hand. The wizard smiled at her and inclined his head. "Now; keep the image of where you want to go clear in your mind," he warned.

"Why? What are we going to – "

_~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~_

The noise made Hermione fall off her stool.

She'd been trying to see if she could reach the small window and maybe somehow work out the bars. It was rather a longshot but if Hermione wasn't moving then there was nothing to stop her from sinking back into painful memories.

She'd just managed to get a-hold of one of the bars when –

CRACK!

"Merlin!" Hermione swore as the stool skittered sideways under her and she crashed to the floor.

" – do?" There was a pause as Hermione's head spun round and round and she wondered what had happened. Then; "Bloody hell, Hermione, are you ok?"

As Hermione tried to blink her eyes clear she thought she must have hit her head harder than she thought because the person kneeling over her sounded like Tonks but it she sure as hell didn't _look_ like her. For starters _she_ was a _he_ and they were dressed in aurors robes.

"Tonks? Is that you?" she asked uncertainly, struggling to sit upright again.

The man looked startled then swore in Tonks' deep voice. "Disguise – forgot," the auror muttered and then, with a wince, the features snapped back to the familiar heart-shaped face. "You ok?" she repeated, helping Hermione to her feet.

"Yes I – Master Dumbledore?" Hermione squeaked in surprise. The flaming streak she'd taken to be a concussion induced hallucination smiled genially at her.

"I, ah, overheard your friend talking to my dear Luna," he said by way of explanation.

Hermione belatedly realised that the second streak of blazing fire was also not a hallucination and blinked until she could distinguish the younger girl's dreamy features. "Lady Luna – Master Dumbledore – I don't know how to thank you," she said eventually, feeling her knees shake with relief. "I – you must realise by now that I'm not what I said I was," she began awkwardly but Dumbledore brushed her off.

"There are times and places for explanations, my dear," he told her. "Now is not it. There are more of you?"

'_Shit: Remus._' All the horror and anxiety came rushing back. "Remus!" she gasped and began racing towards the door. Tonks was already halfway up the stairs as Hermione gasped out, "This way, my Lord!"

For such an old man Dumbledore was surprisingly sprightly. In a trice he had followed Tonks up the stairs and unlocked the door. By the time Hermione had followed suit they were already round the corner.

"He's through there," Tonks was saying as Hermione caught up to them. Tonks had told her but the sight of the smooth wall made Hermione's stomach clench. Somewhere behind that wall of solid stone Remus was dying.

"They removed the door?" Dumbledore said sharply and Tonks nodded, her eyes full of tears. Dumbledore's expression hardened and he turned to face the door. "Stand back."

Hermione didn't hear the spell he muttered but she certainly felt it; a roaring cold poured all around them followed by a pressure so intense that her ears felt close to bursting. Then, when she was about to scream, there was an almighty POP and the wall vanished.

The scholar in Hermione was extremely curious but she had more important things to worry about right now.

"Remus!" Tonks yelled, rushing through almost before the wall had gone. Following Tonks Hermione faltered as she beheld her first teacher. '_Is he… Oh Merlin, please don't let him be dead!_'

He wasn't dead but he certainly looked it. Slumped on the floor he didn't respond to their frantic calls, even when Tonks grabbed him crying. He was deathly pale, somehow more gaunt and frail than before and his breath was short and shallow. Hermione had never felt more useless in her life, not even when she'd been trapped in the cellar. For all her wonderful knowledge she had no clue how to help him.

"We need to move him," Hermione said suddenly. Going over to Tonks she pulled at the metamorphmagi until she understood.

It was far too easy to carry Remus.

"What exactly has been going on here?"

Hermione jumped and looked up nervously. She had completely forgotten about both Dumbledore and Luna, focussing on Remus. Now the former was looking at the room of silver with an odd expression on his face.

Tonks looked over at her just as nervously, still clutching Remus' hand. Master Dumbledore was probably the most enlightened wizard of their time… but every man had his sticking points.

"Remus is the gentlest, kindest man I know," she said carefully. "He taught me to read, looked – _looks_ – after us all… he's like a father to me."

"But he's a werewolf."

Hermione swallowed nervously. Dumbledore had phrased it more as a statement than a question; he _was_ the cleverest man alive after all. He knew what a room of silver signified. "Yes, he is," Hermione admitted, "but he can't help that! He'd never hurt anyone. Sirius and… they became animagi, to help calm the wolf but then the others died and this…" She stopped to hold back a sob. "This was the only way they would let him stay on. He knew it was poison but…" Hermione trailed off and stared at Dumbledore in fright.

Hermione thought she knew what anger looked like; she had lived with the Dursleys for years, after all, and Sirius wasn't exactly the calmest man in the world. But she had never seen the kind of total fury that was radiating off the Master Magician. For a second she thought he was going to start yelling or just incinerate the room to ashes. Instead he just leant down and grabbed Remus' hand.

"I met someone in the highlands of Scotland who can help your friend," he said. "He's… unconventional but one of the only people that would even think about caring for a lycanthrope. I'm not going to lie; he _is_ very weak."

Hermione blinked as she realised what Dumbledore was saying and felt her knees tremble with relief. '_Thank Merlin,_' she thought, relieved. Now she felt silly to have even doubted him but it was easy to lose objectivity when it was someone close to your heart.

"Hang on – I'm coming too!" Tonks protested, scrambling to her feet, clutching Remus' other hand possessively.

Dumbledore didn't say anything, just gave Tonks a swift look before breaking into a small smile. "Of course, my dear," he said, "although you must understand; even my friend may not be able to save him now."

"That's all the more reason why I should go along too," Tonks said stubbornly although her hands shook.

"Hang on – what about Harry and Sirius?" Hermione said, feeling panic again.

Dumbledore looked at her gravely. "You need to talk to the Prince."

Hermione looked at him aghast. "Prince Ronald?" she squeaked, horrified. "I – no, I cannot face him, Master Dumbledore, you don't understand."

"He loves you," Dumbledore said, "and you love him. What more is there to understand?"

Hermione felt water pooling in her eyes. "He loves someone who does not exist. I'm not a Countess – my name isn't even Lily! I'm just Hermione Granger, a servant."

"And? My brother is a noble and is the laughing stock of our town for practicing inappropriate charms on goats. The King's chief potion maker was the bastard son of a peasant. How we are born does not matter nearly half as much as what we strive to make ourselves _become_."

"Yes, but they haven't _deceived_ anyone, Master, it's completely different!" Hermione replied, desperately. "I have done almost nothing but lie to him from the very start."

But Dumbledore only smiled at her. "The Prince will understand," he told her, placing his free hand on her shoulder, before shifting his attention back to the comatose Remus. "Now, we must get going; please hold on tightly to my other arm." As Tonks followed his instructions, Dumbledore looked over at Hermione one last time. "Have faith, my lady; remember that love is the strongest force in the universe; it always prevails."

And then, with a quiet pop, they were gone.

Hermione just stared at the space they vacated feeling panic bubbling up inside her. '_I can't do it,_' she thought desperately, '_I just can't. How can I face him after what I did?_' She felt shame creep through her once more as she thought back to that morning, which seemed so much longer away than just a few hours. Ron's face as she broke his heart flashed into her mind once more and she shut her eyes, feeling angry and resentful of Dumbledore's proclamation. '_If love is the most powerful force in this world then why couldn't I break out from the Imperius curse?_' she thought bitterly.

"Is that what your costume is going to be?"

Hermione jumped violently. Left alone with her angry, anxious thoughts she had completely forgotten that Dumbledore had not come alone. Lady Luna Lovegood was swaying around in the background to her own imaginary music and if there had been anybody else there Hermione would have assumed _they_ had spoken – she looked as though she were completely in her own world.

"I'm not going to the ball," she said shortly, watching Luna dance around. She braced herself for the protests she was sure was coming; you can't let true love pass you by; what about the others, it's their last hope for a rescue; if you don't go the Dursleys win… This was, however, Luna so all she said was, "That's a shame – the song they're playing now is really nice." And then carried on dancing.

"I just can't face him," Hermione blurted out, even though Luna hadn't said anything about Ron. She couldn't stop herself. "After what I've done to him… but I know it wasn't me. If I can get him to listen to the truth, to realise what's happening…"

"Truth is always nice," Luna interjected as she twirled around Hermione. "Especially from the one you love."

"Yes, well… But I've been fooling myself – he can't love me, not now, not when he finds out I've been lying to him all along," Hermione continued, talking more to herself than the errant blonde. "And he's a noble – he's a _Prince_ – he's like a… like a bird and I'm just a fish. We can never live together, it's impossible!"

"Nothing's impossible you know," Luna negated, waving her hands around her head in a complicated gesture. "Not really. And I can solve your problem, easy peasy."

Hermione looked at her desperately. "How?"

"I'll make you wings."

**Authors Note:**

Nearly the ball scene! Yay! Although technically Tonks has already been to the ball. Ah well.

Anyone guess the few characters mentioned (although not actually given a name)? There were 3 I think in this chapter :D

By the way, I found this chapter VERY hard to write so I know it's a bit stilted/awkward in a few places Oh well. Things are coming to a head now!

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	19. Chapter 18: Wings

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** - '_blah_' = thoughts

- Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**A/N: **- Firstly, sorry about the delay in posting this chapter; end of term madness at work!

Secondly, a lot of reviewers have been mentioning the lack of HP pov. This is not an oversight – this is a deliberate exclusion of Mr Potter for the time being for dramatic impact in the story :p

Thirdly, the 'cameos' from last time; most everyone got Snape as the potions master (duh). The friend in Scotland is Hagrid (well done **Swanpride**!) and Aberforth is the brother (although I hadn't actually intended that to be a cameo; well done **Dracarot**). The other mini cameo was the man with the cane who knocks Tonks' broken fingers; a certain Mr Malfoy!

**Chapter Eighteen: Wings**

"Friends, honoured guests!"

As his father called to the crowd, magically enchanted voice ringing over the music and chatter, Ron felt his face fall into a sulky glare.

It wasn't particularly surprising. This was it, after all; the hour when their 'fates' were revealed. 'Doom' might be a more appropriate way of phrasing it. He glanced over at his sister. Ginny was shaking and for once it wasn't from anger but fear. However, for all her terror, she'd managed to confine those convulsions to only a slight tremor in her hands. Her face was the same wooden mask of courtly indifference she'd been wearing all evening; she wasn't going to let Potter have the satisfaction of her fear.

Seeing that Ron straightened up and schooled his expression into that same veneer of calm. He knew Countess Lily wasn't there to see his bad temper; that she was sailing away to her precious Spaniard. Even so, he wanted to show to everyone that he didn't care one jot about Countess Lily or the broken heart she had left him.

"It gives us great pleasure," his dad was saying, "on this festive occasion not only to honour Master Ollivander and Master Dumbledore, who, um, seems to have disappeared – "

Ron pricked his ears up at that. Where had the eccentric wizard gone? Ron had spied him earlier, performing a series of elaborate enchantments for a group of giggling younger courtiers. '_Probably doesn't want to witness our spectacular failure,_' Ron thought, briefly succumbing to gloom once more. This 'true-love-in-five-days' thing had been _his_ idea after all.

" – but also to tell you of a long-awaited decision. So, without further ado, I am… erm, honoured to announce the engagement of our daughter, Princess Ginevra, to Earl Harry Potter."

There was a round of applause and the moronic Earl prance up gleefully to grab Ginny's proffered hand. There was a slight surge in the number of whispered conversations at that but when the applause died off so did any chatter. Ron couldn't help but give off a snort of derision at the sight of Dursley at the front blubbering into a handkerchief.

"We want to extend our warmest welcome to Earl Potter and his aunt, Lady Dursley, to our court and to our family," the King continued, although even Ron heard the slight stiffness in the way he said 'welcome'. For the umpteenth time Ron wondered why they were doing this to them.

"On a similar note," the Queen took over, beckoning at Ron he walked woodenly over to her, "it is my great privilege to announce our son – _youngest_ son," she corrected, smiling at the titters that broke out, "Prince Ronald is to – "

Ron flung out his arm and stopped her.

She turned and glared at him, he knew, but he didn't care; he had eyes but for one person.

Countess Lily was standing at the top of the steps to the courtyard, silvered dress glowing in the dark of the night. She wore no mask, but the white, silver and lavender wings were costume enough. The distance between them was too great for him to be able to see her expression but he knew she was looking right at him, appearing like a wondrous vision, just in time to save him.

For a moment Ron doubted himself; maybe she _was_ just a hallucination. And then he heard his father whisper to his mother, "Who is she, dear?"

As his mother whispered back, Ron caught Ginny's eye. Her façade had dropped and now she just glared at him, jerking her head towards the apparition-that-was-not-an-apparition.

Startled out of his shock, Ron felt his face break into his first genuine smile since earlier that morning and he began walking towards his lady. He spared no thought for the noises of outrage coming from Dursley, or the muttering of the crowd; all his attention was firmly on the small nervous figure ahead of him.

Unlike the gaudy, complicated dresses of his peers, Countess Lily wore a simple silver gown, no jewels or embroidery on the silky fabric. It didn't, as Ron had first thought, even have a luminescent enchantment; instead the colour was so pure that it shone unaided. The delicate dragonfly wings were a sheeny white and shot through with delicate veins of lavender and silver. They looked so realistic that Ron would not be surprised if they really would let their wearer fly.

And her face…

Even in his jubilation, Ron had been worried about meeting the Countesses eyes. The last memory he had of her was of cold, indifferent eyes that spoke of nothing but disdain and unconcern to his pain and heartbreak. In a way the Countess had been as much a wooden doll as Ginny had been that evening.

Now, looking up into eyes that were once more full of feeling and warmth, he wondered if she had worn that mask just to keep from letting her true feelings out, just like Ginny; just like he had been.

As her jogged up to her, Lily's expression was happy but also extremely nervous. Her eyes flicked from him to the surrounding crowd as he guessed she was jumpy about having an audience for their reunion.

Ron himself couldn't care less.

"Shouldn't you be in Spain by now?" Ron said stupidly, the first thing that came to his mind.

The lady winced but clasped her hands together nervously. "I – there's been a change of circumstances," she said somewhat obliquely before rushing on, "but there is something I need to talk to you about now, before anything else happens."

Ron couldn't hear anything else past… "So, you're _not_ engaged?" he clarified.

Lily's face broke out into a small smile. "No, I'm not," she agreed and Ron felt his spirits soar.

"Thank bloody Merlin," he said with relief and reached out to take her hand. "This could've been the worst moment of my life otherwise. Come on," he added, pulling on her hand, "there's someone I want you to meet."

As Ron began jogging back to his parents the drag on his hand increased. "No, wait!" Lily hissed, sounding a little frantic. "Please, there's something I need to talk to you about."

"Whatever it is my answer's yes," Ron said, shooting a quick grin over his shoulder at the lady who was hurrying after him. He just wanted to introduce her – the wonderful, amazing, brilliant, intelligent woman who he loved – to his family, shout from the rooftops that she was his one love.

The crowd's murmuring increased tenfold as he raced back through the assorted astonished noblemen and women, pulling Lily behind him. The singing in his head and the mutters from the crowd ensured that he didn't hear Lily's pleading to stop and listen.

"How _dare_ you!"

Lily's hand was suddenly wrenched out of his and he turned around, astonishment quickly turning to rage as Dursley wrestled one of Lily's beautiful wings off her costume. As she threw the mangled remains to the floor she glared at the distraught Countess with a vehemence the like of which he had never seen before.

"Oi, what are you doing?" Ron yelled, rage and utter confusion putting paid to any sense of courtly decorum. '_What the bloody hell is her problem?_' he wondered, perplexed. Was she annoyed that the Countess was taking attention away from her own loathsome nephew?

Dursley looked slightly affronted to be referred to as 'oi' but made no protest. Instead she thrust a malicious finger at Lily's teary face. "_She_ is an imposter, Sire!" she snapped, finger trembling with rage.

Lily shook her head fretfully, tears swimming in her eyes. "No!"

"Her name is Hermione Granger," Petunia continued without stopping. "She has been my servant for four years."

The shocked silence was only broken by the Queen's angry call. "A servant, Ron? Is this some kind of joke?"

Ron ignored his mother and instead continued to glare at Dursley. "You're on dangerous territory, Dursley," he growled.

Dursley scowled at him. "Ask her yourself!" she retorted, sneering at the distressed Lily. "She's a grasping, devious little pretender… and it is _my_ duty to expose her as the scheming hoax she is!"

Ron had had enough. "Tell this woman who you are, Lily," he ordered, waiting for his Countess to lay into the foul woman before him. "Come on, tell them."

Lily only looked at him tearfully.

"Bow before royalty, you insolent fraud!"

And, for the first time, doubt began to creep into his heart. "Bloody Merlin… it can't be true," he said, staring at Lily in shock. She just continued to stare at him, hands shaking and tears falling. "Lily?"

Lily bit her lip and closed her eyes painfully. "My – my name is Hermione," she whispered eventually. "I'm a – a servant, like she said." She opened her eyes and looked up at him then. "But if you would just – "

"The maid with the broomstick? That was you?"

Ron turned and stared confused at Ginny who had called out. That made no sense to him whatsoever but Lily – no, _Hermione_ – just tearfully nodded her head. "I can explain – "

"Well, someone had better!" the Queen snapped from the dais, glaring at her.

Ron wasn't listening to his mother. His head was just stuck in a never-ending cycle of horror fuelled thoughts. "First you're engaged… and now you're a _servant_?" he said, staring at the woman who had deceived him; who he thought he had loved.

Who had broken his heart twice in one day.

"I've heard enough," he snapped and turned his back on her, walking away, away from this nightmare of tittering, whispering and murmuring nobles; away from his confused and disapproving parents; away from _her_.

"Ron, please!"

The crowd gasped and Ron stiffened. That she would _dare_ to talk to him like that… "I am a Prince of _England_, madam," he said rigidly. "You refer to me as '_Your Highness_'. And you… are just like them," he finished in barely more than a whisper before he fled the scene, vanishing into the darkness.

~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~

Hermione watched Ron disappear into the night and felt as though her world had shattered. She knew he would be angry – and he had every right to be – but she also thought he would have listened. And he may well have done, except…

"Come with me," Petunia growled, gripping Hermione's upper arm in a vice-like grip. Hermione offered no resistance. She felt a bit like a puppet whose strings had been cut, as though she didn't have any control over any of her extremities.

As she was dragged backwards through the court whispers and titters followed her and her vision was filled with sneering, inquisitive faces of courtiers blurred by the tears still welling. Snatches of their conversation also reached her ears, all talking about what a deceitful little bitch she was and how she had humiliated the royal family to get a little bit of fame and fortune. Their words were nothing new; she had been called a slut, a whore and many more worse things when she had been living on the streets. Their hateful, arrogant words simply bounced off her.

What seemed to be sticking, however, was the sight of Ron recoiling when he had said servant. That and the way his voice had formed the word itself; as though even just _saying_ it was abhorrent. It just looped round and round in his head, hurting her more and more every time she relived it.

She had thought he had changed over the past few days; that he had come to realise servants and commoners in general were people just the same as the nobility. That afternoon talking with Riddle, dancing and laughing with outlaws and criminals as though there were everyday acquaintances, seemed like a lifetime ago now. The stolen kiss in the firelight seemed more like a dream or hallucination than a real moment in her life.

All was lost.

Belatedly Hermione realised that the pressure on her arm was gone. Blinking herself out of her miserable memories she was greeted not with the sight of the palace or faces of sneering nobles; rather she was sitting inside a carriage and facing Petunia.

Petunia was ranting a mile-a-minute and from the curious purple colour of her skin Hermione guessed that she had been at it for quite some time. A very small part of Hermione felt a small vindictive joy that Petunia had been raging pointlessly for a good few minutes but it was a very tiny part. She was too numb to take any real pleasure.

"You almost ruined it all, you ungrateful, disgusting _freak_!" Petunia was saying at that moment in time, poison dripping off her every word.

Hermione just blocked her out again, that same image of Ron starting to replay once more in her head. If only she had insisted more on stopping him, making him listen to her somewhere private. She was sure most of his anger came from being humiliated by Petunia, but then she wasn't completely positive about that.

'_After all, I said it myself; I deceived him awfully,_' she gnawed at her pain fretfully. '_I said it – I _told_ Dumbledore and Luna that he wouldn't listen._'

But Dumbledore and Luna had been so confident that Ron would listen to her, help her, that she had begun to believe it too. Her confidence had been further boosted by the costume Luna had somehow managed to whip up out of some clean bedsheets and onion skins (luckily the smell had not transferred across as well). At first she had wanted to make her into a crumple horned snorkack but Hermione had quickly stamped out that particular notion. It was going to be difficult enough facing Ron as it was without wearing some ridiculous costume of a creature that _all_ foremost experts in the field agreed did _not_ exist.

'_I've lost a shoe_,' Hermione realised suddenly, feeling detached from the situation. She flexed the toes of her right foot to confirm. She wasn't quite sure when but she thought it a bit of a shame; faced with a lack of materials, Luna and she had managed to create the shoes from a couple of wine glasses. She would have thought that glass slippers would have been uncomfortable but they were surprisingly comfortable.

At bump in the road they were travelling along suddenly jolted Hermione out of her bizarre mind set and she found herself suddenly back in her body, mind clear again.

'_What the bloody hell am I doing?_' she thought suddenly, anger clearing away misery for the time being. '_I'm moping around like a bloody love-sick fool. I am Harry and Sirius' only hope! I have to go back and make that oaf _listen_ to me, no matter what it takes._'

She looked up at Petunia. "Let me out," she snapped.

Petunia paused in her diatribe and sneered at her. "Finally found your insolent mouth once more, have you?" she jeered, hands clenching into angry fists in her lap. "And not to worry, _freak_; I'll let you out, but not until we reach our destination."

"I've escaped from your clutches already, _my lady_," Hermione said angrily. "So has Harry. I can do it again. Let me go now, get your disgusting son and husband and run; you won't escape this time, I swear it."

Hermione was expecting Petunia to pale at that or retort angrily. She certainly wasn't expecting the cool smirk that settled onto her features. "_You_ are not my problem anymore," she said calmly, although every word dripped poison. "I'm taking you somewhere you'll never escape from. And, let me promise you _Granger_, you'll spend your every waking day wishing that you'd stayed in the cellar at Godric's Hollow. Your fate would have been much nicer if you had."

Hermione felt a bone-chilling coldness seep into her at that. Most people making a threat like that could never live up to it. Not Petunia; when she threatened something she _always_ delivered. For the first time Hermione felt a glimmer of fear for herself.

"Wh – where are you taking me?" she managed to get out eventually.

Petunia's smirk grew. "Don't worry, we're almost there now."

As if on cue the carriage slowed down and trundled to a halt. In a rare move Petunia actually opened the carriage door herself and got down before the driver could reach her. "Out you come, Granger. Come see your fate."

The shaking was back as Hermione nervously inched towards the open door and dropped to the floor. She didn't even notice as her unshod foot landed into a muddy puddle. The rundown looking castle was as unfamiliar to her as the surrounding landscape of hills and trees.

She did, however, recognise the man waiting for her.

"Merlin…"

~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After

Ginny was absolutely furious.

It made a change from desolate and devastated beyond all saving but her mind wasn't quite functioning on that level. All she knew was that she was absolutely livid and that Ron was the cause of that anger.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" she yelled at him.

Ron jumped and turned around from where he was gazing out unseeing to the Royal Forest. His eyes were red but his expression was stoic and inexpressive. She knew that expression well; it was the one she'd been wearing all evening after all. "I'm a _Prince_, Ginny; I have responsibilities."

"Bollocks," she retorted, almost snarling she was so angry.

The façade cracked slightly as he frowned at her. "Ginny," he started but she cut him off.

"You're an absolute idiot, Ron; a Merlin damned IDIOT!" she snapped. "She _loves_ you and you love _her_. Don't you understand how special that is? How _lucky_ you are?" She almost choked on the next part. "Look at the absolute horror I'm stuck with; how could you turn down a chance for actual happiness?"

"She lied to me," Ron retorted, sounding more like the sullen brother she knew.

Ginny made an exasperated noise. "Yes, she did; so do you have any idea what it must have taken for her to come here tonight?"

"She just wanted a crown," Ron spat. "Just like the rest of them."

Ginny didn't say anything for a while, just looked at him pointedly until he sighed in defeat. "No," he admitted sadly. "No, she didn't. She was different. But she still lied to me," he added mutinously.

"I know and it isn't right," Ginny agreed before asking, "Do you remember what she was doing when you first met her?"

Ron looked at her strangely. "Yeah, she was arguing with a guard."

"Arguing for the guard to release her servant – James," Ginny corrected, ignoring various images that his name brought up in her mind. "She was trying to save her best friend, Ron; you just happened to catch her at it. She had no choice but to keep up the pretence else they both would have been arrested."

Ron didn't say anything for a long time and Ginny didn't push him, anger cooled slightly. It must have come as an awful shock to him although the more Ginny thought about it the more it made sense of the enigma that had been Countess Lily. Ginny had never met any noble who cared about servants as much as Lily – Hermione before and now she knew why; they simply did not exist.

That was a thought that made Ginny sad.

Her thoughts skipped back to the witch who had attacked her that fateful morning when she ran away. That day felt a million years ago but in reality it was only a few days. It seemed as though everything had been set into motion from that point. Aside from rousing a curiosity in servants in her it also sparked the entire Countess Lily façade or so she assumed. After all but a few hours after she had given the maid – Hermione, she amended – a bag of gold then she had appeared at Court trying to buy James' freedom.

Ginny shuddered at how close James had come from being exiled from the country forever. If she had never run away from home then she would never have met him, never realised that a servant could be just as funny, intelligent and damn good at flying as any noble. Better in some cases, she corrected, thoughts jumping briefly back to snivelling Potter with a shudder. And how ironic that talking to Hermione had made her want to talk to that maid she'd scared that day without realising she had been talking to her the whole time.

Although she did wonder briefly if James would have been better off in the Americas, away from his oppressive mistress, that awful cow Dursley –

'_Oh, bloody Merlin!_' Ginny swore internally, feeling her face flush with heat as she realised the implications of her marriage and James' household. '_He'll be _my_ servant – Hermione too,_' she added, although she doubted the girl would still have her job after this. '_I can't be his mistress, I just can't…_'

"She is still a servant, Ginny," Ron said suddenly in the quiet jumping Ginny from her thoughts. "I am a Prince, a servant of the crown and I will do my duty, just like you. I will not be humiliated like this."

He half flinched at the end of his pronouncement as though expecting to Ginny to fly off into another rant. Instead Ginny just felt tired, sad and guilty. It was all very well to yell at him for sticking to propriety over true love but was she any better? Her thoughts lingered on James; she hadn't wanted to admit it but she liked him and not as a friend. The way his dark hair stuck out every which way on his head; how he made her laugh; how his green eyes watched her with a strange intensity; the way her arm had tingled when he had held her.

But he was a servant and so she had tried to ignore the feelings, even when it seemed impossible to keep him from her thoughts. At the end of the day, she was too much of a snob and a coward to do what she was berating her brother for not doing.

She sighed and looked at the glass slipper in her hand. Hermione had left it behind as she was leaving – if being dragged by Dursley could be called leaving. It was a pretty thing, very unusual. She didn't know why she'd picked it up, why she'd brought it to her idiotic brother. It wasn't like one shoe would change his mind if logic and true love couldn't. She put it on the wall next to him anyway.

"Then you don't deserve her," she told him quietly and walked away.

'_Just like I don't deserve James._'

**Authors Note:**

Well, the cat's almost completely out of the bag now! I would say 'Who can guess where Hermione is?' but anyone who's seen the film knows and it's pretty obvious so everyone will guess :D (And no, the person she sees is not Merlin XD)

Only 3 chapters and the epilogue left now! Things are coming together!

Also damn, cause this is a _short_ chapter! Lots of dialogue and not much else I suppose is the problem. Longer than the one before, but still. Sorry! Next chapter is longer though :) (And my new favourite, I think!)

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	20. Chapter 19: France

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** - '_blah_' = thoughts

- Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**Chapter Nineteen: France**

It was Ronald Weasley's wedding day.

It was his wedding day, yet he didn't feel happy. He didn't feel excited, eager, anxious, even sick or any of the usual feelings he was supposed to feel on his wedding day.

The happiest day of his life.

Yeah. Right.

As he stared woodenly into the mirror all Ron felt were dread and a miserable gloom that had been hovering over him for the past day like his own personal storm cloud. A whole day had passed since the disastrous ball yet if asked he wouldn't be able to say a single thing that had happened. He remembered a blur of fussing, measuring, decorating and talking but anything more specific than that was beyond him.

What he could remember, however, was Hermione's tear stained face as she stared at him, pleading. He saw her face everywhere he went, haunting him, even when he closed his eyes. After Ginny's argument with him his humiliation, anger and indignation gradually faded away and he was left with, of all things, _guilt_. He was still hurt, but his thoughts had been centring less on his own dishonour and more on what Ginny had said.

But no matter his changing feelings, what's done was done. His bride had arrived from France the previous evening in a lot of pomp and circumstance although he hadn't actually met her. Something about it being unlucky to see the bride the evening before the wedding or some such nonsense. He'd watched the procession of important nobles and dignitaries from an upstairs window but, again, it had been as though he was viewing everything through distorted glass.

"You alright, son?"

Ron looked over his shoulder at his father. Even after more than a decade the King still looked uncomfortable in the full formal dress required of him on special occasions. Before his wife inherited the throne Arthur Weasley had been a simple man, his biggest concern making sure his estates produced enough sustenance for his unusually large family and the local townsfolk. The extra responsibilities and pressures of caring for an entire Kingdom had caused his red hair to be peppered prematurely with grey and extra lines surrounded his eyes.

Now those eyes looked at him with a hint of sadness. Ron looked away and studied his own reflection once more. His own outfit was no less formal or rich than his fathers; a rich red tunic riddled with elaborate embroidery covered black breeches, both bespelled to repel any dirt and to be tear-resistant. His shoulders felt ten times heavier as the myriad of gold chains weighed him down, adorned with small sunbursts embedded with rubies. Heavier than it ever had been before, his crown sat gleaming on his neatly styled red hair.

A perfect groom.

"Fine," he said gruffly.

His father's reflection shifted awkwardly. "Listen, Ron," he said haltingly. "It was… _unfair_ of us to put so much pressure on you about this marriage. You seemed to be… well, _floundering_ a bit. You and Ginevra both."

Ron just grunted. Inwardly his thoughts were already racing back to who he had been but a week ago. His father was right; he _had_ been floundering around, no direction in his life. Every day he just went through the motions without taking any action or making any real decisions for himself. All his thoughts had centred purely on himself without sparing any thought for anyone else and any responsibilities and tasks he _had _been given he viewed with resentment.

"This school idea you and Ginevra came up with," Arthur was saying, "was a brilliant idea, you know."

Ron was the one to shift awkwardly at that. "Well, it wasn't just us," he started to say but his father cut him off.

"Sitting down and dealing with a terrorist on your own to work out a workable solution to a problem that has been simmering under the surface of our kingdom for years has shown your mother and I that we were wrong about you both." The King gave a rueful smile. "You, ah, might not have realised with all the screaming but we're very proud of you both."

Ron stared at one of the suns on his gold chain and kept silent. That was one of the only clear things he could remember about the previous day. In fact, with all the hulabaloo of the ball and the revelations he had almost completely forgotten about his promise to Riddle to talk to his parents. But, having spent the day almost entirely brooding about Hermione, it had only been a matter of time before he remembered. After all hadn't she been the one to agree to the meeting with Riddle in the first place? So yes, Ginny had been the one talking with the Death Eater but she had ultimately looked at Hermione for guidance and Hermione had said yes. The sheer cheek of it sometimes made Ron laugh; there she was, a mere servant, telling the Royal family how they should rule their country! Absurd.

By the slightly hysterical laughter always faded away as quickly as it had come. Servant she might be, but the true absurdity of the situation was that this particular 'mere servant' really did know how to run the country better than Ron or Ginny. No matter how much she'd hurt him he couldn't deny the truth of what he had realised in the past few days; Hermione had made him a better person. He would be a captive right now if not for her and Gryffindor, waiting to be ransomed. More like he would be back in the castle, bitter and scornful of the terrorists who had fallen afoul of the crown and paid for it with their lives. Yet for all their actions the Death Eaters weren't _all_ bad people, just desperate. And without Hermione the very real problem that had been brewing under their royal feet for years would still be simmering away, reading to boil over and burn them all very seriously in the future.

Ron gritted his teeth and wrenched his way from the memories of that night. If he thought too long then the bonfire would appear in his mind and he would see her face leaning towards his and then the touch of her lips…

"You should tell Ginny this, not me," Ron said gruffly, concentrating as hard as he could on his reflection in the mirror. '_If I wasn't so gloomy I'd make a pretty decent groom_,' he thought and then cursed himself as his thoughts drifted once more to Hermione and what _she_ would look like, walking towards him from the end of the aisle, radiant in white and gold.

"I should be telling both of you," the King corrected quietly. "I will tell Ginevra, have no fear." He paused then. "It is still not too late, Ron."

Ron shifted his gaze over his should to his father. "I have made my choice," he said, though his stomach roiled at the words. He _had_ made his choice; made it when he spurned Hermione in front of everyone, for all the world to see and laugh at her. When he wasn't sulking on the lies she had told him he was thinking desperately of finding her and running away with her, just like he'd said in the Burrow not two mornings ago. But something was always holding him back; was it fear? More likely it was shame. How could he talk to her now, after what he had done to her?

Over his shoulder the King opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a servant at the door.

"Your Highness? It is time."

_~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After_

The church had never been more beautiful.

Every surface had been scrubbed, scoured and polished until it gleamed and then scrubbed, scoured and polished once more. The marble floor was so smooth it resembled glass and several altar servers had already slipped on the ice-like surface. White silks spiralled down from the ancient beams of the arched ceiling, elaborate bouquets of roses, orchids, lilies and a hundred other types of flowers no one could name masking the joins. The aisles had suffered a similar treatment lending a lighter perfume to contrast with the muskier cloying scent on incense.

No less beautiful or elaborate were the church goers themselves, settled excitedly into their pews. If the sunlight was not illuminating a spray of frosted freesia then it was glinting off a thousand precious jewels. Diamonds sparkled from necklaces; emeralds twinkled from hairnets; sapphires gleamed from earrings; pearls shone from bodices; rubies glowed from rings; and the flash of silver, gold and platinum was everywhere.

When you managed to drag your eyes from the precious metals you were met with a riot of colours in the forms of the guests clothes; red, orange, yellow, purple, pink, fawn, lavender, scarlet, cream, turquoise, rose, viridian… Together the guests made a sparkling rainbow, rich with every possible hue under the sun.

And the whole, sparkling, gleaming, colourful space was filled with laughter and happiness.

Ginny absolutely hated it.

Despised, detested, _loathed_ every small, tiny part of it; from the wide sweeping banners to the stupid garnet on her niece's ring that kept shining in her eyes.

Oh, it wasn't _her_ wedding, she knew. That made it worse. Now her nightmares of her own impending doom would be all the more detailed and realistic, especially as she had caught a glimpse of her own dubious fiancée earlier on.

Unable to stop herself, Ginny found her gaze shifting across the circular space where the royalty were sat to the pews where Potter was sitting with his aunt. The worst part of it was the fact that for the first time Potter looked half-way decent. The feather was once more nowhere to be seen and, whilst the sword _had_ made a reappearance, the rest of Potter's clothes were downright tasteful.

Maybe that should have made her feel better but, yet again, all it did was make her own nightmarish visions of her wedding more realistic.

'_Merlin, it's really going to happen_,' Ginny thought suddenly, panic beginning to bubble up alarmingly. She knew it was going to happen and soon, but suddenly to be faced with a church full of happy wedding guests… '_I'm not getting out of this! I'm going to be Mrs Harry Potter for the rest of my life!_' Why oh _why_ hadn't she just said a random name from the crowd? Why did she have to get all het up on what Dumbledore had said about love?

_Why_ couldn't she get James' stupid face out of her head?

"You alright, Gin-Gin?"

Trying to force her face into some kind of semblance of calm Ginny turned and managed to shot Fred a strained smile. "Fine, thanks."

Fred's eyes flickered over to Potter and Ginny's smile became even tenser as her stomach twisted in dread. But, for once, Fred's grin dropped from his face. "Oh, yeah. Right," he said and gave her arm a squeeze before turning to face the front stoically.

Ginny stared at him in astonishment before feeling tears prick at her eyes. '_Damn you, Fred,_' she thought angrily, swiping at her eyes before the tears could smudge her makeup. She'd been dreading it but it was what she expected; she swore that Fred and George didn't know how to carry on a normal conversation like everyone else. Everything that came out of their mouths was a riddle, tease or laugh. As a result, what she'd been _expecting_ was some stupid comment about making kissy faces at her husband-to-be.

Sympathy was far worse.

Not that the twins first meeting with Potter and his aunt hadn't been amusing; on the contrary it was the only highlight of the past 24 hours…

_Ginny highly resented having to give up even a smidgeon of her last day as a single Princess to spend even a second with stupid _Potter_. After all, in a few days' time she'd be vowing to spend the rest of her life with him and that was already far too long a time without adding any more to it._

_Resentment was exhausting though and she'd been doing enough raging the past week to warrant sleeping uninterrupted for a month. Coupled with several late – and sleepless – nights it didn't come as a surprise when her anger fizzled out almost as soon as it had surfaced to be replaced by what Ginny had started to call her Zombie Face._

_She had originally called it her Doll Face – blank of expression, no emotions, hollow – as that was how she'd looked at the ball yesterday evening. However the more she thought about it the more accurate she realised the imagery was. A doll was nothing but a painted toy, passed around and used; a _thing _that could be lost or sold. That was a little too close to reality for Ginny to be comfortable with that mental description anymore._

_She had settled on Zombie Face for several reasons;_

_a) Emotionless and dead inside, which is exactly how she felt, but morbid enough to be decidedly un-Princessey_

_b) It would piss her mother off if she knew_

_c) Zombies had a tendency to horribly murder those closest to them (Ginny was quite happily ignoring the fact that zombies usually achieved this heinous act by eating their victim's brains. For a start she wasn't sure Potter had one)_

_Zombie Face or Doll Face, it had quite firmly settled on her features as she entered the receiving room. "Lady Dursley," she greeted neutrally after first saying a stiff hello to her mother. The King was absent for some unknown reason. Probably off in last minute talks with France about Ronald's own enslavement. "Earl Potter."_

"_Your Highness," Dursley simpered, a self-satisfied smirk already in place. "You must be getting excited." She looked across at Potter and beamed at him. "I know my dear D-Harrykins is beside himself."_

_Potter _did_ look happy but as it was the usual excited but gormless expression he normally wore she ignored him. Instead Ginny studied Dursley, feeling distinctly odd._

_In the shock of revealing Hermione's identity it was a lot harder for Ginny to resolve the reality of both her and James being under the thumb of this petty, calculating cow. They were both so intelligent, caring, funny and sensible; she didn't understand how anybody had achieved that under Petunia's reign._

_Face-to-face with her now all James' horror stories of different employers came back to her and she realised that most of them were probably about the woman right in front of her. Realising that Dursley had just sat back and let James be sold in the first place was enough to briefly break through her Zombie Face._

_Dursley's face twitched slightly. "Your Highness?"_

_Ginny gave herself a little shake. Anger would do her no good. "My apologies, Lady Dursley," she said shortly. "My mind was… elsewhere."_

_Dursley's eyes narrowed but she was too much a courtier to press further. Instead she gave a sickly sweet smile and inclined her head graciously. "Of course, Princess."_

_As the Queen took over the conversation Ginny idly found herself wondering what shade Dursley's face would go if she enquired about last night and Hermione. Part of her was desperate to know what had happened to the older girl. Clever as she was, Ginny was sure that Hermione would have no trouble finding another position if Dursley had let her go. Although she would probably have to go quite far to escape from the debacle of the ball scene and there was the fact that she was a witch…_

_Assurances about Hermione's resourcefulness aside if by some miracle – or extreme bout of madness – Dursley hadn't let Hermione go there and then Ginny didn't want to remind her of the trouble and embarrassment the girl had caused._

_Another more secretive, guilty part didn't want to know about Hermione at all; it wanted to know about James. Though Hermione's revelation had been a shock Ginny's thoughts had been more occupied with how James fit into all this. She assumed that they both were servants in Petunia's household but did Dursley know about James' involvement in Hermione's deception? He hadn't been at the Palace. If he had been then, propriety or no, Ginny was sure that James would have stood up for his friend; he was just that kind of person._

_But was he even working for the Dursleys at the moment? After all, he _had_ been sold into exile, even if it had been through no fault of his own. Would they take him back? What kind of lie must he have told them to explain what happened? Maybe he had told them the truth?_

_Ginny snorted. She doubted Petunia would give anyone the time of day unless they were a courtier much less listen to a servant's tale of innocence when the 'law' had found him a criminal._

_Something niggled at the back of her mind then, but Ginny dismissed it. She had enough disconnected puzzles and worries running amok in her mind; she didn't have room to accommodate niggles as well._

_Ginny rather hoped Hermione had been smart enough to grab James and leave the Dursleys straight away. They both deserved better than life as a servant, especially to such a cold bitch. She didn't want James to be hurt any more than he already had been; once again his expression of outrage flickered in front of her eyes. It was a face that she was becoming oddly familiar with over the past 48 hours. She didn't know why that particular image of James was haunting her but it made her stomach churn. She wanted to talk to him, apologise, although she wasn't exactly sure what she was apologising for. After all, _he_ had been the one to deceive _her_._

'He was protecting someone though,_' Ginny thought miserably. '_I… well…_' She broke the thought off before it could form. It was a sad day indeed when she couldn't even face her own thoughts._

"_I really admire your Majesty," Dursley was saying as Ginny dragged her mind back to the conversation. "I wouldn't know what to do with so many children. Looking after dear Harry took all my time; it's a compliment to your Majesty how perfectly all seven of your children turned out."_

_The Queen looked rather uncomfortable at that. "Yes, well, thank you, Lady Dursley," she said, awkwardly._

_Now the casual observer would assume that the Queen was just embarrassed at the overly lavish praise and they would be partly right. But the Queen was royalty; overly lavish praise was unfortunately part of the job description. After many years on the throne Molly Weasley was more or less accustomed to ridiculous over the top statements and it barely fazed her anymore._

_The real reason the Queen looked especially uncomfortable right now, Ginny knew, was because the royal Princes (and Princess) were far from perfect._

_Just look at her and Ron; he was sulky, bad tempered and had embarrassed the royal family horrendously just the night before by (almost) publicly declaring his love for a common servant at the largest party of the year so far. And then there was Ginny herself; she had after all run away from the palace too many times to count, managing to get into fights with bandits along the way!_

_And then there were…_

_CRACK!_

_Dursley screamed and dropped her teacup. Potter actually managed to crash off his chair onto the floor as he squealed in terror._

"_Apologies, my Lady, didn't see you there!"_

_Dursley just looked as though she were about to faint._

"_She doesn't look too good, does she, Fred?"_

"_Not good at all, George."_

"_In fact she looks as though she's going to scream –"_

" – _pass out – "_

" – _throw up," they agreed in unison._

"_Fred! George!" the Queen hissed, enraged. By the rapidly brightening shade of crimson on her face Ginny could tell it was taking all her will power not to yell at the twins right there and then._

_Fred and George, Ginny's incorrigible twin brothers, just grinned cheerily at the seething Queen. "Hello mother," they said chirpily, Fred sending a wink Ginny's way._

_Well, the Queen may not have been delighted with their entrance but it was the best thing that had happened to Ginny since that evening by the bonfire with James. Thinking about him immediately brought up a resurgence of uncomfortable conflicting emotions but she pushed them aside to focus on her brothers._

_Both twins were identical, down to the last freckle on their long noses. Orange hair was stuck out all over the place, as though they'd been through a whirlwind, and their blue eyes twinkled with mirth as they surveyed the havoc they'd created._

_Creating havoc was Fred and George's default state. More specifically it was the reason Ginny hadn't seen either of them in about 5 months. After nearly causing an international incident – apparently the Prussians did _not_ take too kindly to having their crown prince turned into a canary, however briefly – the twins had been sent to the furthest points of Scotland as a punishment. Ginny didn't know whether the King or Queen had hoped the freezing cold, wet weather would dampen their spirits somewhat but if their dramatic entrance was anything to go by, it hadn't worked._

"_Hello, Gin-Gin," Fred said sunnily, carefully selecting a small cake from the tray._

"_Hello, Fred, George," she replied grinning. Ordinarily if someone called her 'Gin-Gin' she'd treat them to her bat bogey special but she liked the nickname when it came from one of the twins. George shot her an especially wide grin now, also perusing the cakes for a snack. Both twins were in matching bright green tunics with offensively yellow breeches and sleeves. On anyone else that colour would be extremely distasteful but Ginny liked it. Combined with their Weasley red hair that certainly brightened up any room they were in!_

"_Fred! George!" Queen Molly repeated, beginning to lose the argument to not shout a little bit. "_What_ do you think you're doing?"_

"_But, mother," George protested, wide eyed, "you wanted to see us!"_

"_Said it was important, too," Fred added, swallowing his pastry._

"_Even sent Dad to make sure we were here."_

"_So we thought – "_

" – _if it was _that_ important – "_

" – _then it must be quite urgent – "_

" – _and if it _was_ urgent – "_

" – _we should be here as soon as possible – "_

" – _and here we are," the finished in chorus._

_How the twins managed to pull off entire conversations and speeches completing each other's sentences perfectly had long been a subject of hot debate among the Weasley siblings. When they were younger Bill had told Ron and Ginny very matter of factly that Fred and George were actually triplets but the third brother was invisible (courtesy of a poorly executed chameleon charm from a passing wizard). _He_ was actually the one that told both Fred and George what to say by whispering in their ears._

_Ron and Ginny had believed in this so strongly that whenever the twins started talking in tandem they used to run madly between them, flapping their arms and trying to catch Humphrey, much to the confusion of their parents and amusement of their siblings._

_As they grew older – and their siblings' sniggers grew louder – Ron and Ginny realised that Fred and George having an invisible triplet Humphrey was totally absurd. Charlie's explanation of there actually only being one twin and the other was just a magical illusion brought about through a combination accidental magic and the 'existence' of an invisible friend – was equally crazy._

_So what else could Ron and Ginny do but come up with their own ridiculous theories?_

_Ron, being not particularly imaginative, merely held onto the belief that the twins could freeze time to discuss what they were going to say before they actually said it. Ginny's own theory was in a similar vein but was a touch more intelligent. Or at least she'd like to think so. She hypothesized that Fred and George, early in their childhood, had gotten hold of a time turner and now regularly used it to travel back in time to tell their earlier selves what to say._

_She liked the paradoxical side of her theory – if the twins just said what the twins told them to say but the only reason the twins had said that in the first place is because the twins had told them to then who thought up the original script? She was still working on a plausible way to account for the quite drastic aging that Fred and George would appear to be going through if they were reliving hundreds of hours but it was still a working theory._

_Everyone ignored Percy when he started lecturing them all on twin soul bonds._

_Whatever the actual reason for the twins' flawless synchronicity it was highly unnerving to the new and extremely exasperating to their mother._

"_You know perfectly well your father did _not_ mean for you to apparate," the Queen snapped, hands on hips in a very un-queen-like pose. "How many times do I – do we! – have to tell you? Honestly, I don't know what to do with the two of you sometimes."_

_Before the twins could say anything in reply the doors came crashing open and the King came skidding into the hall, panting and red. "Boys! You know perfectly well I did not mean for you to apparate," he reprimanded in an eerily familiar echo of his wife. "You need to learn to control yourselves," he added sternly, although the effect was somewhat diminished by his red panting face._

"_Sorry, Dad," Fred said cheerily, not sounding at all remorseful._

"_Yeah; we'll work on controlling ourselves," George added before apparating out and in on the spot. CRACK! "Whoops, pardon me!"_

_Ginny was trying very hard not to laugh outright at this point and even the King found it difficult to conceal his mirth. The Queen, however, still looked apoplectic. "Out!" she snapped at them. "Out of this room immediately!"_

_Fred and George looked immensely affronted by this. "But you just told us to come down!" George protested._

"_Yes, we were really looking forward to meeting our future brother-in-law and his lovely aunt," Fred agreed, bowing fussily at Dursley and waggling his eyebrows at her. Dursley looked absolutely mortified, clutching weakly at her chest and closing her eyes as though hoping if she couldn't see Fred or George they would disappear as quickly as they had appeared. Potter was still on the floor, blinking at the twins bewildered._

"_Hello, hello, Earl Potter," Fred said joyfully, bounding across the room to the dazed noble, shaking his hand enthusiastically. "Or should I call you brother?"_

"_Um…"_

"_Brother it is!" Fred agreed, trying to pull the stunned noble up from the ground. He made a face and George bounded over to help him haul Potter up._

"_Think we could fit all our brothers into just this one," George commented off-handedly as they heaved Potter to his feet._

"_Much more economical this way," Fred concurred. He sent another flamboyant bow Dursley's way. "I congratulate you on your economical thinking, my Lady."_

"_OUT!" the Queen yelled, completely forgetting her non-yelling rule._

"_Now, now, mother, there's no need to be rude," Fred said, shocked._

"_If you wanted us to leave all you needed to do was ask," George added, backing out the room._

_Ginny could've sworn her mother growled._

_As the twins whisked themselves merrily out of the room, Ginny turned with a sigh back to Dursley and Potter. Dursley was still frozen in an expression of horror, although the paleness of shock was beginning to be replaced by a redness borne solely of anger._

"_Lady Petunia, Earl Potter, I cannot _begin_ to apologise enough for my sons," the Queen apologised, rushing over to the statuesque courtier, vanishing the broken teacup and tea with a silence flick of her wand. Pushing another cup into Dursley's numb hands she attempted a very shaky smile. "As you see, my Lady, my children are far from perfect," she joked weakly._

_The look Petunia sent her could have cut ice._

_The King meanwhile was checking Potter was alright. "You alright, my boy?" he asked kindly._

_Potter blinked at him, looking quite confused. "Er, yeah… your Majesty?" he said. It sounded more like a question than a statement._

_As for Ginny herself she was still trying to contain her laughter. She was glad, however much everyone else seemed to be treating Potter with such reverence, Fred and George were being their usual ridiculous selves. Her only regret was that the Queen had thrown her brothers out so quickly; a few more minutes and maybe Fred and George would mortify Dursley so much that she would call the wedding off._

_Yeah. Like _that_ was going to happen._

_Still, there was still a small slither of hope to be had. Maybe the twins had managed to slip a little something into the pile of biscuits her mother was now handing Dursley._

_Dursley would make a splendid canary after all._

Alas, no canaries had materialised that afternoon. Brought back to the here and now Ginny sighed. Her mum and dad had been awfully apologetic and obliging for the rest of the afternoon, close to fawning over Dursley and Potter until the sour expression had diminished somewhat.

Of course all the rest of Ginny's family had been perfect courtiers. Charlie, back from commanding the Royal Navy just for the wedding, had been horribly polite, treating both Dursley and Potter with various (extremely watered down) tales of his exploits in battles. Listening to Charlie was the most engaged Ginny had ever seen Potter although she doubted he would ever consider such a career. For a start he would have to lose a hell of a lot of weight.

Bill, Crown Prince and heartthrob of many a noble lady, had also been present, his equally gorgeous wife, Princess Fleur Delacour of Belgium, in tow. There were whispers on the continent that there was some veela blood in the family tree although no one dared say anything where the Royals could hear them. Ginny had believed it from the moment she clapped eyes on the Princess. There was just an ethereal air of other-wordly beauty and perfection for it to be natural. No matter the occasion, Fleur always looked so flawless that Ginny instantly felt dirty and unkempt in her presence. Most men couldn't help but stare at her. The Weasley men had been no different although they quickly learnt control. As the youngest, Ron had been the worst, but even _he_ had never been as bad as Potter. When Potter had been introduced to Fleur he went twice as gormless as usual and occasionally even stared openly at her chest. Ginny shuddered just thinking about it.

Percy, of course, had been his usual perfectly proper and courteous self. Ginny rather thought Dursley liked him most of all.

After the two torturous hours Dursley and Potter bid them farewell; the former simpering whilst the latter shot both her and Fleur a farewell leer that made Ginny feel physically sick. '_Two more days_,' she thought, wanting to cry.

As the drawing room doors came to a close the Weasley family had been left to an awkward silence. Ginny was upset and embarrassed, as usual, and wouldn't look at any one else. Bill, looking as uncomfortable as Ginny had ever seen him, was the one to break the silence.

"Well, he was… erm, interesting."

Ginny felt like burying her face in her hands.

"Interesting?" Fleur repeated, crinkling her nose. "'E was disgusting. I am uzed to men staring at moi but even so, 'e was _trés grotesque_."

Bill made shushing motions at his wife. "You have to admit, dear, you _are_ the most beautiful woman in the world," he said, trying to placate her. Usually appealing to her vanity always mollified the Belgian but today she just made a face.

"He was probably nervous," Charlie offered, although he didn't look any happier than Bill. "We are a big riot of royals after all. Plus Fred and George – "

"Don't even _mention_ those incorrigible brothers of yours," the Queen snapped, face immediately darkening. "And yes; I'm sure that played a part of it," she added unconvincingly.

"He probably improves once you get to know him," Charlie ventured, equally feebly.

Ginevra loved her family, her big brothers most of all. They were always there for her, sticking up for and protecting her just as big brothers were wont to do. And that's just what they were doing now; protecting her, trying to make her feel better about marrying that awful lackwit. Well, Ginny was sick of being 'protected'. She'd much rather someone came out and said it out loud rather than dancing around the truth.

But when she opened her own mouth to tell them _exactly_ what Potter was she found she couldn't do it either. She was too afraid; saying it out loud wouldn't change what he was any more than it would stop her marriage. Her parents had made _that_ abundantly clear. So, in the end, all she said was;

"No. He doesn't."

And she had walked out.

"You know Bill and Charlie argued with Mum and Dad after you left," Fred said, almost as though he could hear her thoughts.

Back in the church Ginny turned to him in shock. "What?" she said. "How do you know?"

Fred waved a grey slug in her face. Ginny recoiled, disgusted, before she realised that it was _not_ a slug. "What is _that_?" she asked, curious.

"Extendable Ear," Fred said proudly, shoving it back in his belt. "Those Scottish castles are very big, full of secrets – and you know us; we couldn't let such good secrets go by undiscovered. But Aunt Muriel caught us eaves dropping once and threated to send us to different ends of the highlands so we developed these little beauties instead."

"They let you listen to conversations on the other side of the castle?" Ginny asked, fascinated.

Fred snorted and shook his head woefully. "Would that it could little sister," he said. "It stretches but from maybe one story to another and across several rooms. Not far, but far enough for a little spy work."

"Why were you listening in on Potter?" Ginny ignored all the mischief and havoc that the twins could unleash on the castle armed with all the secrets the Extendable Ears could give them. She made a note in future to place Imperturbable Charms on every door and window in her chambers. She didn't want Fred and George blackmailing her with any of _her_ secrets.

Not, of course, that she had any.

"Since we were so _rudely_ ejected from his presence by dear old Mum we had to make sure _someone_ stood up for you," Fred said, causing Ginny to stare at him, astonished all over again. "We were about ready to storm on in and tell their Majesties _exactly_ what we thought of dear old Potter when Bill and Charlie beat us to it." He sighed. "Probably for the best," he admitted. "For some bizarre reason Mum's a wee bit miffed with poor George and I at the moment." As Ginny snorted Fred's face darkened. "Not that it made any difference."

Ginny's stomach tightened but she tried to keep a brave face on. She certainly didn't want her brothers to see her crying.

"A Princess does her duty," she said duly. Fred's eyes narrowed at her but before he could say aught else Ron and her father strode past them in a whirl of gold and red. "Plus," she added, watching her pale brother, face stone-like, taking his place at the end of the aisle, "I'm not the only one doing my duty today."

Fred made a face. "But Ron's bride is at least pretty," he pointed out. "And she seemed nice last night, if a little… _upset."_

'Distraught' was a better way to put it but Ginny held her tongue. She wasn't sure she would be much better tomorrow after all. And, besides, 'looks' would make no difference to Ron. His bride could be the most beautiful woman in the world and he would still be miserable. He was, after all, in love with someone else.

Ginny sighed, suddenly feeling sorrier for her brother than she did for herself. At least _she_ didn't have _that_ particular heartache to add to her own misery tomorrow.

Did she?

_~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After_

The trumpets burst into life.

As the rest of the congregation stood to face the back Ron felt his stomach clench so violently that he almost bent over with pain.

'_Oh, bloody Merlin, this is it! Shit._'

The sun was shining on the back of the church, almost as though to add to the heralding of his new bride being played out by the fanfare of trumpets and church bells. The sun was too bright however; all he could make out of her was a figure, clothed in red and gold to match him, golden lace veil obscuring what little of her face the sun hadn't bleached out.

He couldn't help it, he really couldn't; for those few steps when he couldn't see the lady Ron's mind filled it in with _her_ face.

Hermione smiled happily at him as she walked down the aisle, eyes shining in joy. The red and gold of her veil flickered and suddenly it wasn't a veil but fire and she leaned towards him –

– and wailed.

Ron blinked his eyes in astonishment. As he blinked the vision away, Hermione's face melted into that of his bride.

Her Royal Highness, Cho Chang, daughter of the Duke of Brittany and his wife, the Princess Royal of France, was everything Ron could have hoped for in a bride. Her features were delicate and hinted at her father's Asian lineage, lending her an exotic air. Her eyes were big, dark and beautiful, silky black hair coiled around her head in an array of jewels and curls. She was petite and looked to be about the same age as him, another bonus.

Her beauty, however, was somewhat spoilt by the fact that she was sobbing her head off.

Ron stared at her, utterly bewildered. She was bloody well crying! Not little, sniffling sobs or a silent tear or two mind; no, Chang was belting out full on wailing cries that could be heard even above the cacophony of trumpets, bells and organs of her procession.

Ron shot a perplexed look at Neville, his best man, who shot him an equally baffled look in reply. Looking across at his family Ron met the same puzzled expressions although the twins were trying very hard not to laugh. In their alcove the King and Queen looked just as uncertain although the royal representatives of France looked either uncomfortable or murderous by turns.

"What the bloody hell am I supposed to do?" Ron asked Neville, turning back to his best friend desperately for advice.

Neville shrugged, just as lots. Neither of them was good with crying females at the best of times. "Get on with it?" was all Neville had to offer.

Ron glared at him. "Great. Thanks!" he snapped before schooling his face into something that resembled calm. His bride was almost at the end of the aisle now and he had to go and meet her. He tried to smile at her, to make her feel better, but he wasn't sure it worked; as he took her hand it trembled violently. Walking her to the altar and feeling extremely awkward Ron heartily wished the ground would just open up and swallow him whole.

'_I can_not_ believe that this is happening to me!_'

Well, he knew his wedding wouldn't be a happy one, but this was bloody insane! Rather than leading a beautiful, happy bride to the altar he felt more as though he were transporting a particularly volatile potion; one that would go off at any minute if not handled with the utmost care. It made Ron annoyed; _he_ didn't want to be there either but was _he_ going around making a total fool of himself and his partner? No, he bloody well wasn't!

'_Hermione wouldn't be crying,_' he thought suddenly and immediately wished he hadn't. They were at the altar by then and he had to help her down onto her knees. He was pretty sure if he didn't then the French noble would just collapse on the floor.

"In the name of the Father," the priest intoned although he had to raise his voice as Chang broke out into a fresh wail, "and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

"Amen."

Even as Ron responded by rote inside he was still filled with incredulity that was slowly turning into indignation. So she didn't want to marry him? Well, he didn't want to marry her either and probably for much better reason. What was _her_ problem? '_I know I'm not the heartthrob that Bill is but I'm not a total troll,_' he thought, hurt.

He shot another mystified look at his bride as the priest continued. Her shoulders were shaking now, cries alternating between hiccoughing sobs and wails to total anguish. Her should-be-beautiful eyes were red and swollen and her gaze flicked between the priest, her parents and the congregation constantly.

Never at him though.

Following her gaze Ron's eyes caught on something unexpected and he stared, hardly believing what he saw. Indignation reverted back to incredulity, surprise and then, finally, bizarrely, amusement.

He started laughing.

Whereas Cho's wails were insufficient to halt the priest's routine, Ron's mirth certainly did the trick. He stopped astonished and stared down at what must surely be the most bizarre royal couple he had ever seen – one in tears and the other laughing like a mad man. He didn't even lower his arms; they were frozen partway to do the blessing Ron's amusement had halted. The rest of the church had fallen into a shocked silence till the only sound was his laughter and Cho's sniffles and sobs.

As Ron turned towards his bride those sobs diminished slightly as she looked at him uncertainly, but also with a hint of anger in her eyes, as though he was mocking her anguish.

'_Anything but,_' Ron thought as he pulled the confused noble to her feet.

"Non merci, non merci," she babbled as he lifted her veil. "Tu ne comprendes pas – "

Ron cut her off. "My lady," he said, grinning. "I know _exactly_ how you feel."

She paused for a second and he had a moment's worry that she didn't understand English. But then, miraculously, her face split into the largest, most joyful smile he had ever seen. Tear stains and all, it made her truly beautiful. "Vraiment?" she asked, as though she couldn't believe it.

Ron smiled again. "Oui, Madmesoille."

At once Chang let out another cry but whereas before her wails had been full of sorrow this one could only be described as a shriek of pure joy. Gathering up her voluminous skirts she dashed back to the congregation, calling out in jubilant French the whole way. As she reached the confused looking congregation she flung herself into the arms of an equally joyous courtier who leapt out of the pews to embrace her.

Feeling lighter than he had since before the ball Ron turned away from the reunited lovers to glance at how the various royals were taking it. His parents looked a little shocked although the King was trying to cover a smile. The French royals however…

'_And I thought _we_ had it bad,_' Ron thought suppressing the desire to break into more laughter. Chang's parents were screaming at each other in rage, looking more murderous and annoyed than his parents ever had. '_Chang's got a tough path to convince _those two_ to accept her beloved,_' he thought, turning away from them. Startled, shocked faces were only passing blurs as he strode as purposefully _out_ of the church that he had begrudgingly shuffled into but 10 minutes ago.

Behind him he could hear the exuberant proclamations of love mingling with the continued shrieks of the French and couldn't help another grin. Following Chang's miserable glances it hadn't been too hard to locate the source of her misery. In a sea of happy, excited faces his was cloaked in such an expression of wretchedness and despair that he stood out like a sore thumb. Ron knew the expression well; it had been the same one that had stared back at him in the mirror for the past few days.

'_He loves her,_' he had realised, '_and she loves him_.' Then the full absurdity of the situation had hit him and he couldn't help but laugh. '_Here we are, two _miserable_ people, preparing to join in an equally _miserable_ marriage and make two other people utterly _miserable_ for the senseless, ridiculous reason of _duty_._

'_How stupid.'_

Now, striding away from his 'fate' he spared a quick thought for the couple behind him. Just a thought though, as he had more pressing concerns than another man's battle to win his love.

He, after all, had his own love to win back.

_~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After_

**Authors Note:**

A much lighter chapter than the last, I'm sure we can all agree :D Yay! Ron's stopped being an idiot about Hermione. I hope you liked the long interlude with the twins. I struggled a bit at first in how to write them but finally got into a bit of a flow and worked something that I think works ok.

And I feel I should apologise for using Cho in this way. Anyone who has seen the film will realise that the bride really does wail all the way through and when I was planning this chapter, months ago, I was struggling to think of someone who would fit the bill. I loved the idea of using Cho simply because she does cry through most of OotP but was aware that it doesn't quite work. Since, in all those months, I could not think of someone better I have stuck with Cho. I have the feeling that sometime, somewhen, I _did_ actually think of someone really good but, in typical writer stupidity, if I _did_ have that idea I never wrote it down somewhere.

Anyway, just two chapters left to go now, eek! Will Ron find his love? Will Ginny have to marry awful 'Potter'? FIND OUT NEXT TIME! :D

(Channelling an American style tv show there… sorry about that!)

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~

PS. Apologies for the French. I'm going off half remembered GCSE French here from about 10 years ago (and now I feel old) so it's probably more than a little dodgy. The bride is originally Spanish in the film so I couldn't nab that from the transcript


	21. Chapter 20: Greyback

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** - '_blah_' = thoughts

- Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**Authors Note:** from a very light chapter to a VERY dark one – in fact, this is the darkest chapter I've ever written so please consider yourselves warned. I changed the rating of this story a couple of weeks back when I was writing this chapter, almost in anticipation! It also hasn't been properly beta-tested but I just wanted to get it out there, so apologies for any mistakes.

Also, this is a very R/H heavy chapter… but the next chapter will be very heavy H/G so it's balanced

**Chapter Twenty: Greyback**

Hermione couldn't stop shaking.

She wasn't sure what exactly she was shaking from; cold, hunger, exhaustion… Fear. It was most likely a combination of all four.

It was probably fear.

Greyback hadn't spared her more than a few words when Petunia had dragged her into his expectant grip; he'd leered at her, an evil smile that had made Hermione struggle all the more to get out of his grip. His grin grew wider at that, telling her, "I like it when they struggle."

She didn't struggle after that.

The room he had 'given' her was in the house's only tower; circular, cold, damp stone and utterly devoid of any furniture. Not that she would able to use any furniture had she had any; Greyback had chained her to the wall before leaving, promises of 'later' on his foul lips.

Hermione didn't know what 'later' meant although the screams reverberating around the castle gave her a pretty good idea. She shuddered and tried to curl up tighter. She was still clad in her ball gown from two days ago and, whilst it was still summer outside, the small tower cell seemed to suck up all that heat greedily, leaving her chilled and shaking.

She didn't know how long she had sat there, terrified, exhausted, angry and distraught before slipping into sleep. She had thought to be plagued with nightmares, haunting screeching torments, but she had dreamed no nightmares. Nor, indeed, any dreams whatsoever; Hermione's sleep had been long, deep and oddly restful.

When she _had_ awoken however she was all aquiver. '_He'll be coming any time now,_' she thought to herself, trying to steel her nerves. Stories and rumours about Fenrir Greyback often whirled their way through the marketplace and now every single one Hermione had ever overhead seemed to be racing each other round her head in quick succession, sending her legs trembling. She managed to stop them; she would _not_ give the monster the satisfaction of her fear. '_Any time now._'

But 'any time now' never came.

Instead Hermione's ears and imagination had to contend with a myriad of screams, cries and sobs that echoed around her little prison, chilling her more than the frozen flagstones or pools of icy stagnant water. Most of the voices sounded female, although she did hear a male voice once or twice. '_Please not Harry,_' she thought desperately. '_Please don't let it be Harry._'

Suffice it say her second night was a lot less restful than her first.

On the second day, today, she could no longer suppress her shivers although at every creak of the stairs she tried. It was all in vain anyway; it was never him.

Then the bells started ringing.

Hermione had been drowsing and half scrambled to her feet. '_Someone's calling at the house,_' was her first thought. '_Someone's here to rescue me._'

As her brain caught up, however, and the bells continued to peal, Hermione realised the truth. The bells weren't those of the front door; they were coming from outside.

Already half on her feet, Hermione twisted round as much as her chains would let her, straining to see through the small hole that barely resembled a window. Still the bells rang out their merry tune. She wondered what on earth it could be. And then memory struck and she sank to the floor, defeated.

The bells of the great cathedral were grand instruments, bespelled many years ago to stay in perfect tune. Traditionally they were only ever rung for three different events. Royal funerals were rare, but not as rare as a coronation. In her time at Godric's Hollow Hermione had never heard those two particular arrangements. The third reason, however, she had heard twice before. They had been rung with particular gusto and merriment from the Cathedral, joined in chorus by a myriad of smaller churches that littered the capital.

It was the fanfare for a royal wedding.

A tear trickled down Hermione's cheek. '_Ron…_' She had tried not to think of him – it hurt too much – but she would be a fool not to realise what those bells meant; he had married his French bride.

All at once his face flashed in front of her eyes once more; the bewilderment and then disgust as he said, "You're a _servant_?" She had known he wouldn't be coming to rescue her, she _had_… but only now did she realise just how much she was still hoping for a rescue.

'_I betrayed him_,' she thought, angry with herself for this foolish hope. '_Why would he come for me?_'

There _was_ Luna though. _She _knew the truth. Hermione let out a bitter laugh. Yes, Luna did know the truth, but who would believe her? More to the point, where had she been? The lady had accompanied Hermione to the ball but when Petunia was dragging the senseless Hermione away where had she been then? Gone, disappeared, vanished.

Just like her.

And those bells might not have been just for Ron, she realised suddenly. There were _two_ royal weddings scheduled after all – what if it had been a double ceremony? What if poor Ginevra had been married to Dudley?

'_All is lost,_' Hermione thought, losing herself in despair.

Then, quite a while later, a thought occurred to her: '_Remus_.' Remus knew the truth. So did Tonks.

_And Dumbledore_.

Though she had only met the master wizard once, Hermione was suddenly utterly convinced of one thing: '_Dumbledore will save us_.'

'_But how long will Remus take to recover?_' Hermione thought, biting her lip anxiously. The fact that neither Dumbledore nor Tonks had reappeared led Hermione to believe that Remus was in a very serious condition indeed. Who knew how long it would be before Dumbledore would be free to come find them?

'_By the time he does come it might be too late for me,_' Hermione thought despairingly before slapping that thought away. '_Hermione Granger,_' she told herself firmly, '_you have not lived through all this _hell_ to give up before the end. We still don't know where Harry or Sirius are – we need Harry, he's our hope, our future._' The lightning bearer, another part of her mind whispered but she ignored it. _'What if he _is_ in this poxy-damned mansion? You have two hands, two feet and, most importantly, a_ brain._ Harry doesn't tell you constantly that you're the cleverest person he knows for no reason. Now think!_'

Hermione stared around at her dingy little cell with a new focus. Instead of focussing on the condensation on the wall, the dirt and the multitude of cracks Hermione began focussing on things that she could use. Most of what she saw was completely useless but she refused to be sucked back down into despair. '_There will be _something_ I can use,_' she thought stubbornly.

And then she saw it.

Hermione wasn't sure where it had come from – broken off some older chains perhaps – but the small sliver of metal glinting dully from where it was half hidden in the straw was something Hermione was very happy to see. Ok, so it wasn't as useful as a wand or a dagger but it could be used for something. Picking her lock perhaps?

Getting hold of the metal shard wasn't easy; it required a lot of straining and stretching that Hermione was sure she would be paying for later on. Eventually, however, she managed to reach it with the toes on her unshod foot. Getting the shard from the floor to her hands was another matter entirely and involved some rather creative gymnastics with her feet. But at last the shard was in her hand. Gritting her teeth against the pain she got to work.

Exactly what she would be facing, Hermione didn't know. But meeting Fenrir unrestrained and free was better than being chained and helpless any day.

'_Bring it on, Fenrir.'_

_~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After_

The stairs creaked.

Hermione shifted nervously but resolute. The chains that previously bound her to the wall were still in place but no longer locked. She had managed to work her aching hands free about an hour before, almost crying as she could finally rest her arms properly. Her wrists were extremely chafed from the rough contact but that was nothing against the relief of being free to move once more.

She had a plan, of course. It wasn't the best plan, but it was the best one she could think of given the circumstances. She just hoped she was strong enough – mentally and physically – to pull it off.

The door creaked open.

Fenrir Greyback loomed in the open doorway, an expectant smirk on his face. "Good day, my dear."

Hermione glared at him. "Let. Me. Go."

His smirk widened and he took a step into the room. Hermione swallowed nervously. Fenrir was not a small man – as well as being the tallest man she thought she'd ever met he was one of the bulkiest. She rather thought his neck was thicker than her entire body. '_Maybe this plan wasn't the best idea after all_…'

"You belong to me now," he said, taking another step forward.

"I belong to no one," Hermione snapped, clenching her fists in her chains. "Least of all to _you_."

"Most of my girls are like you at the start," Fenrir said, licking his lips. "Magnificent, stubborn, wilful to a fault. All they needed was to be… broken."

He stepped forward again. Hermione shrunk back against the wall, tensing herself. '_Just a bit closer._' "Don't get any closer," she warned, heart pounding in anticipation and fear. "You _will_ maintain a proper distance."

Fenrir laughed at that, just as she thought he would. "I do love a girl with spirit!"

And he lunged for her.

Fenrir may be nothing but muscle but he was very slow and Hermione had the element of surprise. Quick as a flash she slipped under his grabbing arms as he grunted with surprise. Miraculously her throw worked on first try and the chain previously binding her to the wall now surrounded Fenrir's larger than average neck.

It might be a large neck but Hermione was not a simpering maid from the palace; she had her fair share of muscles too.

"I could have you ha-hanged for this!" Fenrir choked out, trying to twist round and grab her, even as the chain was strangling him.

"Not if you're dead," Hermione retorted, pulling tighter. Her arm muscles were already screaming under the strain but she held on with all her might; she needed just a few seconds more.

After an age, Fenrir's body slumped, the added force on the chain proving too much for Hermione's arms; she let go. Breathing heavily, heart pounding in her eyes and feeling as though she was going to be sick, Hermione still managed to stumble over to her 'captor'. Checking him anxiously she was relieved to see his chest still rising; for all her bravado Hermione hadn't wanted to kill the man. She was in enough trouble as it was; murder wasn't going to help.

All Hermione wanted to do then was curl up in a ball and cry, sleep, laugh or be sick, but she had things that needed doing. Most important of those was to make sure when Fenrir came round he wouldn't be able to come after her.

Luckily the man had fallen close enough to the chains that she didn't have to move him as moving the mammoth of a man would be something her already protesting muscles might be incapable of. As she clasped the chains securely shut Hermione wondered nervously if they were in fact strong enough to secure him in place. '_One good strong yank from those arms and they'll snap_,' she thought worriedly but had to put it from her mind. Until she got hold of some guards – or, better yet, a wand – it was her only option.

Now she just had to find Harry.

Considering she'd just strangled a man probably three if not four times her size into unconsciousness Hermione found it a lot harder to leave the draughty tower then she would have thought possible. It wasn't because she was exhausted – although she was – it was more because she was terrified of what she might find when she started searching Fenrir's residence.

'_All that screaming_…'

She wasn't sure how long she huddled next to her cell door before she started moving. It felt like a lifetime; in reality it was probably just a few minutes. Her footsteps caused the ramshackle wooden staircase to creak alarmingly. The original stone one seemed to have crumbled away years ago and she tread carefully on the rotting wooden slats put up in their stead. Having to concentrate so hard on her step was good in a way, for it meant she had less thought to spare for imagining what horrors she would find.

When she came to the first door it took nearly everything Hermione had to open it. It seemed ridiculous – she had just knocked out and locked up the most terrifying man she had ever met – but the memory of those screams lingered. Her imagination had provided so many awful scenarios she was afraid to find out which one was true.

'_But I'll never find Harry otherwise,_' she thought, steeling herself.

Hermione opened the door.

The first room she tried was empty. So was the next room and the one after that. They hadn't always been, she could tell; the same chains dangled from the walls as from her own little cell. Hermione shuddered to think about what so many rooms meant. '_How has he gotten away with this?'_ she wondered, staring with consternation at the strange gouges on the floor.

Closing the door, Hermione sighed. She knew why; because no one cared. That seemed to be the underlying problem behind every bad thing in the Kingdom. Before she could help it her thoughts skipped back to Ron. Despite his reaction to the reality of who she was she hoped that with time he would think less on that and more on what she had shown him; that a country's servants and commoners were far more than just unintelligent shadows in the background.

So absorbed in her gloomy thoughts, it took Hermione a split second to realise that the next room wasn't empty.

"Merlin…"

Dashing over and crouching down besides the girl, Hermione hurriedly tried to unlock the chains as she talked, trying to get the girl to respond. "Can you hear me?" she asked, managing to unlock on chafed wrist. "My name's Hermione; what's yours?"

The girl stirred slightly as Hermione managed to free her second arm but didn't speak. Hermione bit her lip and braced herself as she carefully turned the girl over from where she was lying face down on the floor.

It was a good thing the girl was unconscious so she didn't see Hermione flinch. Hermione was sure the girl had been pretty once; under the dirt her hair was a light blonde, her nose was small and petite, her mouth full. But all those pretty features had been ruined by the large gashes running across her cheeks.

Feeling faintly sick, Hermione ran her eyes carefully down the girl's body, barely covered by a tattered navy dress. More cuts and gashes riddled her arms and legs, interspersed with bruises in a rainbow of colours. On her right shoulder there was a strange circular ring of wounds that puzzled Hermione until she realised with horror that it was a bite mark.

Flicking her gaze back up to the girl's face Hermione jumped to see terrified blue eyes peering at her. "Who are you?" the girl whispered hoarsely.

"I'm Hermione," she responded as softly as she could. "I'm here to help you."

But the girl shook her head vehemently at that. "No, no!" she hissed, trying to push Hermione's hands away. "If he comes back…" She broke off, too scared to even finish the sentence.

"He won't be coming," Hermione said gently, taking the girl's hands firmly back in her own. She was probably only fourteen or fifteen and Hermione found it hard not to squeeze the girl's hands too tightly as she was filled with an anger she had never felt before.

The girl's eyes widened. "He's dead?"

Hermione bit her lip, wishing she could say yes. She never thought she'd regret not taking a life but the girl's hopeful expression and her own fury was beginning to make her wish she'd done something more than just knock Fenrir out. "No," she admitted, not wanting to lie, "but he won't be coming after you, I promise," she added hastily as the girl's expression became fearful once more. "I've locked him away; you're safe."

It was as though a switch had been flipped. Bursting into tears the girl launched herself into Hermione's arms, shaking and sobbing with relief. Feeling how skinny and cold the girl was Hermione found she was shaking too but with anger.

Once the girl calmed down at bit, Hermione helped her to her feet, wondering what on Earth to do with her. There were plenty more rooms to search but she couldn't leave her in the cell; nor could she take her with her. She supposed there was a kitchen somewhere but only Merlin knew where _that_ was.

Luckily the girl almost seemed to read her mind. "I don't suppose," she started hesitantly, "could you – do you think you could take me outside? I want to be in the sunshine again."

Hermione smiled. "Of course I can."

Luckily, Hermione remembered vaguely where the front door was from her arrival so it didn't take them too long to find. This was doubly good as, although she didn't say anything, the girl – whose name was Laura – was struggling to walk properly with her injuries.

Managing to heave open the front door at last, they both stepped out in the sunshine. As the rays gently warmed her skin, Hermione closed her eyes and let out a sigh. Standing there, feeling warm again for the first time in over a day, she felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. So she hadn't found Harry yet, but she _would_; it was only a matter of time. She'd faced down Death Eaters, scornful Princes and now the most barbaric, evil man she'd ever met.

What more could possibly go –

"What's that?"

Hermione opened her eyes and looked across at Laura, who was looking fearful again. "What's what?"

"That," Laura said, pointing with a shaking finger at something in the distance.

Following Laura's trembling arm it was now Hermione's turn to be filled with shock and then dread. 'That' was a horse and rider, rapidly gaining on the battered manse. 'That' was someone bedecked with red and gold that glinted in the sun. 'That' was someone whose hair was so red she could make it out even at this distance.

'That' was Prince Ron.

"Just stay here," she told Laura quietly, extracting her arm from the other girl's grasp carefully.

Laura's eyes flicked fearfully back towards Ron. "Why? Who is he? Will he hurt us?"

Hermione smiled reassuringly. "Nothing of the sort. He's a… friend; he won't hurt you. It's just… complicated," she grimaced.

Turning away from the still worried Laura, Hermione looked to see that Ron had already dismounted and was striding towards her looking as uncertain as she. Walking over to meet him, Hermione's emotions were in a complete mess. She was relieved, confused, wary, angry, hopeful, jumpy and nervous all at once. It didn't help that her stomach had started doing flip flops as soon as she had realised it was him.

"Hello," she said uncertainly as he drew close. He stopped at a fair distance and watched her, clearly just as uncertain.

"Hello," he said back.

Both of them stood there for a few moments before Hermione had to know. "What are you doing here?" He had only been married a couple of hours by Hermione's estimate – why wasn't he with his new bride?

Ron shifted uncertainly at that. "I'm, um… well, I'm here to rescue you."

_~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After_

Ron felt like an idiot.

It wasn't a new feeling, to be sure, but it was still unpleasant. He had stormed out of the cathedral, jumped on his horse and set off for Godric's Hollow immediately. His plan fell apart almost straight away when he realised that, beyond a vague description by Dursley which he hadn't really listened to, he had no idea where Godric's Hollow actually was. He almost stopped to ask directions before he remembered the nifty spell Hermione had used in the woods. A quick "point me" and he was racing towards Godric's Hollow again.

Once he reached the estate, however, he was in for another blow.

"What do you mean, she's been sold?"

Even though he was a Prince and the man just a man-servant he still managed to look down on him. "I mean exactly what I say, Your Highness," he said stiffly.

"But she's a _person_ – you can't sell people!"

The man-servant raised an eyebrow. "Far be it from me to correct Your Highness but slavery is not against the law."

"Well it bloody well should be," Ron snapped, frustrated. "Who was she sold to?"

"I'm afraid I don't know, Your Highness."

'_Buggery, bugger!'_ Ron thought before a sudden thought occurred to him. "Wait, what about Gryffindor; James Gryffindor? He's a servant here, too."

"I'm afraid, Your Highness, that I do not know of anyone by that name."

Ron was confused by that. Surely Gryffindor _was_ a servant here, too; that's the impression he had got from Hermione. Ginny had thought that too. '_Unless he used a different name…_'

Ron didn't realise he'd said that last bit out loud until the man had replied, "If it helps, Your Highness, her ladyship sold on _all_ the old staff but myself and her ladies maid two days ago."

"But you don't know where."

"No, Your Highness, beg pardon," the man said, not sounding at all apologetic. "I could always enquire with her ladyship though – "

"No, no, that's really not necessary," Ron said hastily. Last thing he needed was for Dursley to find out he was looking for her servant. She'd probably be mortified (although that didn't really bother him) and complain to his parents (which bothered him slightly more but not enough to care). "It was just a… curiosity," he finished with a sigh and rode off abruptly, feeling just as miserable as he had only an hour ago.

'_So now, because I was a prat, Hermione's been sold to Merlin knows who and could be anywhere in the bloody country. Ronald Weasley, you're a right bloody idiot._'

Scolding himself, however, made no difference to how wretched he felt or the bare hopelessness of the facts. He had absolutely no way of finding Hermione aside from asking the most base, conniving woman he knew who, royalty or not, would probably refuse to tell him anyway.

As Ron brooded he suddenly realised that he didn't have a clue where he was. Leaving Godric's Hollow he had simply turned his horses away from the way he'd come and then let it wander. He also realised that someone was shouting his name.

"Oi! Prince Ronald!"

Turning his horse around and already bristly with indignation Ron looked angrily for who had addressed him so rudely and blinked, surprised. "You – you're that Death Eater; Thomas, wasn't it?"

Coming to a halt the Death Eater looked surprised that Ron _did_ actually remember him but that look quickly changed into a smirk. "Glad to see you remember me, _Your Highness_," he said, a hint of mockery in his voice even as he bowed. It annoyed Ron that he wasn't even slightly out of breath after chasing him probably from Godric's Hollow itself.

Ron frowned, more than a little confused and uncomfortable to boot. "What do you want?" he asked, wishing Hermione or even Ginny was here. He was still a bit uncertain how to deal with the Death Eaters, despite helping come to a truce of sorts. "We've already passed Riddle's ideas onto their Majesties."

"Whilst that's very reassuring to hear it's not why I'm here," Thomas said. "The Lady Luna sent me."

'_Luna?!'_ That threw Ron completely. Worried, he tried to remember the last time he'd seen the Lady and realised he hadn't seen her since the ball. "What have you done with her?" he shouted, schemes of kidnapping and ransom demands swimming through his mind. Typical commoners; playing at being nice, talking them into letting their guard down and then bam!

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Dear me, Your Highness, not very trusting, are you?" We have done _nothing_ to the Lady Luna; rather, she came to _us_ for help." The polite mask turned into a sneer once more. "Perhaps she thought that you _nobles_ weren't to be trusted. That or you were all generally too useless."

"Oh." Ron felt like a complete fool all over again and immediately felt ashamed of his instinctive reaction. It was the same inbred response that had caused him to recoil from Hermione when she revealed her true status. '_That's something I really need to work on._' "Sorry," he blurted out awkwardly. "It's just… well… um, what does Luna want?"

Thomas surveyed him quietly for a bit before speaking again. "If you want to find your lady love," he said slowly, "head for the Valley of the Wolf; Fenrir Greyback has her now."

Ron blinked. "You what?"

Thomas rolled his eyes. "The Countess Ravenclaw – "

"You mean Hermione," Ron corrected, earning a glare from Thomas.

"Yes, her. She's been sold to a merchant called Fenrir Greyback whose mansion is located in the Valley of the Wolf."

"Oh. Hang on," Ron said, glaring, "if you know where she is then why aren't you rescuing her?"

Thomas shrugged. "Not our business. Besides, Lady Luna said that rescuing the Countess – "

"Hermione!"

" – was your job," Thomas continued as though he hadn't heard Ron. "We'll need her help – and yours – to save the lightning bearer."

_That_ completely threw Ron. "The who?" he asked before memory caught up. "Gryffindor?" he said, astonished. "What the bloody hell does he have to do with anything?"

"Everything, apparently," Thomas shrugged but cut Ron off before he could ask anything more. "Look, Your Highness, if you want answers you'll have to ask the Lady Luna herself. In the meantime, isn't there someone you need to be saving about now?"

'_Bollocks; Hermione_!'

"Hang on," Ron said again as Thomas turned to leave. "How am I supposed to find this 'Valley of the Wolf'?" He had never even heard of the place!

Thomas rolled his eyes. "You're a wizard, aren't you?" he said with just a trace of bitterness. "Use your wand."

'_The point me spell_,' Ron realised, closing his eyes with a groan. Hadn't he already used it today? He really was a bloody idiot! Looking back over at Thomas to thank him he jumped to find the Death Eater had disappeared. '_Run back into the woods more like it,_' Ron thought, eying the trees a tad uneasily. He was getting very confused by all this lightning bearer stuff and Gryffindor especially. He _was_ just a servant, wasn't he? Ron chastised himself; clearly Gryffindor _wasn't_ just a servant, not after everything he'd seen the past few days. The question was; _what_ was he? And that was a question he was going to put to Hermione…

… once he'd rescued her, of course.

So there he'd been, racing back through the town and countryside, across streams and hills, rocks and fields, to come to his loves rescue… only to find, in typical Hermione fashion, that she didn't actually need rescuing. All his brilliant, dashing, heroic thoughts winked out of existence in the blink of an eye.

"I'm, um… well, I'm here to rescue you."

Something unreadable flickered across her face at that. "Rescue me?" she repeated, a little coldly. "Me: a commoner?"

Ron blushed. "Yes," he admitted. "Although I should have realised you'd manage fine on your own," he added with a weak smile.

Hermione frowned and glanced behind her. "I wouldn't say that," she murmured cryptically.

Following her gaze Ron jumped to realise they were not alone in the small courtyard. He had been so intent on Hermione that he had noticed little else. Now that he _had_ noticed the other girl, however, he wondered how on earth he could have missed her. _'Those injuries…_' he thought, horrified.

He turned back to Hermione completely perplexed. "What the bloody hell is going on here?" he asked, bewildered.

Hermione scowled. "It's Fenrir Greyback, the 'master' of this house," she said darkly. "He's… well, he's a complete monster – the screams I heard coming from the house last night…" She shuddered. "Laura's the first one I found when I escaped."

Ron drew his wand feeling murderous. "Are you… did he…?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, although he tried," she said, shivering again. "I managed to chain him up in one of the tower rooms."

Ron stared at her admiringly. Was there nothing she couldn't do? "You said – Laura, was it? – was the first on you found?" he questioned, remembering that little detail to both his and Hermione's surprise. "Does that mean there are more?"

Hermione nodded slowly, looking both anguished and furious. "I think so – although Merlin knows what state they're in," she said sadly.

That was pretty ominous. "I'll send for some help and healers from the palace," Ron said suddenly. "Some guards, too," he added, thinking of the monster Hermione had locked up. "While we wait for them to get here I can search for survivors."

Hermione frowned at him, folding her arms. "Don't you mean we?"

Ron looked at her. "I didn't think – not after all you've been through…" he trailed off.

Instead of blowing up at him like he expected, however, Hermione suddenly blushed and gave him a small smile. "Thank you," she said, "but I don't think I could live with myself if I didn't help where I could."

They both looked at each other for a few minutes. "Why don't – why don't you help Laura get settled somewhere more comfortable whilst I send off the patronus," Ron suggested eventually, feeling himself blush. Hermione nodded and moved away whilst Ron turned to face the way he'd come in.

"Expecto Patronum!"

'_What the…_' Ron stared. What had happened to his patronus? He wasn't the best at casting the charm, but even so he had managed to cast a corporeal one for a couple of years now and his patronus always took the form of the same thing; a Jack Russell terrier. That wasn't the animal that was floating around his ankles, waiting for a message; the animal he had conjured was an _otter_.

Frowning, Ron dismissed the patronus and then tried again, concentrating harder than he ever had before. Opening his eyes where he'd been squeezing them shut in concentration he was astonished to find the same otter swimming around by his ankles.

"Is there a problem, Ron?"

Ron looked back at Hermione, false smile on his face. "Just sending the message out now."

Turning back he came face to face with the otter; it really _was_ his patronus. Sighing, Ron put it out of his mind. Hopefully, unexpected shape or not, it would still carry a message ok. He just hoped Shacklebolt would recognise his voice.

"Are you ready?"

Ron jumped as Hermione appeared at his elbow. The patronus was disappearing into the distance at that point so there was nothing to stop them from going about their unpleasant task. "I'm ready."

Whatever Ron had thought he'd been doing that morning when he woke up, his current situation never even vaguely crossed his mind. First he was looking forward to being trapped in a loveless marriage for all eternity and then he was racing towards freedom, his love and pouring his heart out, begging for forgiveness.

Instead of having long discussions about his feelings and how sorry he felt however there Ronald Weasley, Prince of England, was; searching through the house of a madman and trying to bring comfort to the poor victims he found. It wasn't easy. Most of the victims they found wouldn't even look at Ron so poor Hermione had to coax them out by herself. They found three girls that had slashes and bite marks similar to Laura's and one slightly older girl who wouldn't even wake up she was so badly injured. Carrying her out as carefully as he could into the sunshine Ron fervently hoped that the aurors had got his message and were coming along shortly.

Leaving the unconscious girl in the care of Laura Ron demanded that Hermione take him to see the monster who had done this. Hermione, who had gotten quieter as the search went on, obliged, although she was shaking with repressed fury. When he laid eyes on Greyback Ron felt his respect for Hermione increase even more. Greyback was quite easily the largest man he had ever seen in his life. "How did you…?" he asked, staring at her amazed.

"I was desperate," Hermione said quietly. "Although now I wish I'd killed him."

Thinking back on all they'd found Ron couldn't blame her. "He deserves it," he agreed, "but at least this way we can make an example of him."

Hermione looked at him oddly but didn't say anything. Eventually Ron pulled her away from the unconscious man. The longer he stood there staring the angrier he got and he didn't want to end up doing something he'd regret. He added a few charms to the lock as it slammed shut as an afterthought – now he'd seen the size of the man he wasn't sure mere chains would hold him.

It was as they want through the last rooms that they found their first body. Unlike the others, this one was a boy. Upon seeing him Hermione stifled a scream and ran forwards, frantically turning him over. As Ron caught up to her she broke into sobs, tears pouring down her face. Kneeling down next to her it took a split second for Ron to realise that her cries were those of relief. Unsure what exactly she was relieved about, Ron just kept an arm around her as she cried before he finally added it up.

"You think Gryffindors here somewhere, don't you?"

She looked at him, still crying. "I… I don't know _where_ he is I just thought… and then I saw the hair…" she broke down into tears again. "And it's awful but all I can think is 'thank Merlin it's not him'!"

Ron could understand that, understand feeling guilty over relief. After all, every time they found a fresh victim of Fenrir's he had the same thought; thank Merlin it's not Hermione.

Once Hermione had calmed down a bit, he pulled her back to her feet. "Come on – we'll leave him for the aurors to collect," he said gently and guided her out the room.

It turned out that Fenrir's mansion had one more horror to present to them all. In the very last room they checked was a small boy, just five or six. He had been spared the disfiguring welts of the older girls but he looked fearfully up at them through swollen eyes. As Hermione, smiling as comfortingly as she could, shuffled closer they caught a glimpse of his leg. Large bite marks, unlike any they had seen so far, covered the poor boys limb, only half healed. As Ron flinched Hermione made an odd noise, eyes widening. As the boy looked at them, however, she quickly cleared her expression and proceeded to coax him out.

Walking back into the courtyard, the boy carefully wrapped in Hermione's arms, Ron was relieved to find that the aurors had arrived. They were stood in the courtyard looking around almost as warily as the girl's that watched them from where they'd left them. Seeing Ron Shacklebolt straightened up in relief.

"Your Highness," he said, striding over to Ron. Seeing the boy squirm in Hermione's arms Ron took a few steps forward to meet Shacklebolt halfway. Kingsley's expression was stern and faintly disgusted. "What exactly is going on here?"

"It's a long story," Ron said with a sigh, feeling the emotional exhaustion of the past hour beginning to wear him down. "There's a man to be taken into custody, currently restrained in the top room of the tower. Maximum security, please, Shacklebolt."

"You might want to use silver handcuffs, Sir Auror," Hermione called from where she was still holding the wide-eyed child. "He's a werewolf so likely standard chains won't offer that much resistance."

Ron and Kingsley stared at her in astonishment. "How the bloody hell do you know that?" Ron asked before he could stop himself.

Hermione blushed and carefully jiggled the boy in his arms. "The bite on his leg – it's a werewolf bite."

Shacklebolt looked even more horrified at that. Ron felt the same, although he briefly wondered where Hermione had seen a werewolf bite before. "Yes, my lady," Kingsley said, bowing in Hermione's direction who blushed and started to protest. Kingsley didn't see her, however, and swept past into the mansion's entrance, calling for three more aurors to follow.

Looking across at the other girls, Ron was relieved to see that they had relaxed enough to let some of the healers that had accompanied the aurors attend to them. Ron called one over for the boy and Hermione handed him over with a promise of coming to see him later. Left alone with each other once more, Ron suddenly felt panicky. What was he going to say?

"Why are you here, Ron?" Ron looked back at Hermione, who was looking at him wearily. "Why aren't you with your new wife?"

Ron blinked. "I… I'm not married, Hermione," he said softly, blushing red as she stared at him sharply. "I mean I was there and waiting… but when she walked down the aisle all I could see was you and… bloody hell, Hermione, I told you I loved you and then just threw you to the wolves." He caught himself at that and made a face. "Literally, as it turns out. I'm just… sorry. Merlin, I'm so sorry, and I just wanted to know… Hermione, do you think you could forgive me?"

She was looking at him oddly. "Say it again."

"I'm sorry."

She blinked at him and then smiled. "Not that; the part where you said _my_ name."

He stared at her, bewildered, before he realised that, despite the hours they'd spent together that day, no matter how many times he'd thought it, that was the first time he'd ever called her by her real name. "Hermione."

Her smile grew even wider and he couldn't help but responding. "Um, you know, you left something behind at the ball," he said eventually, giving his wand a quick flick. As the glass slipper flew into his hand she stared at it in astonishment.

"My glass slipper… where did you…?"

"I've, um, kind of been carrying it around since the ball," Ron confessed, feeling his ears burn at the confession. "Was stupid but even though I was mad at you I… didn't want to let you go."

"I'm still a peasant, _Your Highness_," she said softly, staring at the shoe rather than meeting his gaze.

"I know," Ron said swallowing, "and I don't care. Hermione, you have quite literally turned my world on its head and made me more than I ever thought I could be. With you I feel… well, complete. Hermione Granger, would you do me the honour of being my wife?"

Staring up at him in shock, Hermione broke out into the most beautiful smile she had ever seen. "Merlin! I – I mean…" she said and laughed. "Yes, Ron, I will."

It was usual in these circumstances, he knew, to kneel and place an engagement ring on his fiancé's finger but these weren't usual circumstances by any stretch of the imagination. Pulling her over to a partly crumbled down wall he bade her sit and then knelt, carefully placing the elegant glass slipper over her foot.

Looking up at her, Ron thought he could never feel so happy. As she stared down at him too he was certain she felt the same. And then her expression changed.

"Shit! Harry!"

_~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After_

**Authors Note:**

JUST ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT!

Damn this was really dark… Interesting where the story takes you, isn't it? Anyway, darkness is over now – things can only get better :D So excited for the next chapter!

And if you're wondering about where exactly Ron summoned the shoes from, they were in the saddle bags of his horse :)

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	22. Chapter 21: Wedding

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** - '_blah_' = thoughts

- Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**Authors Note:** I am **SO** sorry it has taken me so long to get this chapter out. Starting back after Christmas I was too exhausted to write anything for a while (and then, typically, I was ill in half term). But here it is – and I make no apologies for the cheese and fluff in this chapter :D I do, however, make apologies for any mistakes. I'm too tired to read it back through now I've finished it and just want to post it so sorry! Also, I really CANNOT describe wedding gowns XD

**Chapter Twenty-One: Wedding**

Her dress was absolutely beautiful.

Even having grown up submerged almost daily into the world of fine gowns, rich cloths, detailed embroidery and dazzling jewels, Ginny had felt her breath catch at the sight of her elegant white gown.

Not, of course, that she would agree to get into it.

"Please, Your Highness," the maid tried again nervously, "it's nearly time for the wedding."

Ginny simply ignored the poor girl as she had been for the past hour. She felt a twinge of guilt as the maid bit her lip and backed away worriedly to whisper with the other anxious maids. She pushed that guilt away however; this was _her_ life on the line after all!

Hair still in its' usual post-sleep mess, Ginny continued to stare at her lovely dress, a mixture of emotions swirling round her stomach. It surprised her, this dress. It was as though it had been made especially for _her_ – which, of course, it had – but by that she meant it was what _she_ would want out of a wedding dress.

For a start, it was simple. Ginny had always detested the over the top fripperies and extravagances that were all the fashion amongst the Court. Maybe it had something to do with having six older brothers. More likely it had more to do with how much more difficult such trappings made playing Quidditch or avoiding her mother.

The bodice was simple, plain even, bar the few real diamonds that had been embedded in the corset. A light, almost transparent material covered the entire dress, from sleeves, to bodice to covering the main petticoat and trailing out to make a modest sized train. Here and there were the glimmers of more precious jewels or the slightly raised texture of intricate embroidered flowers. As Ginny leaned closer to inspect them she saw with a surprise they were lilies, an unusual flower to choose for weddings indeed.

It was pure white, also very unusual in a royal wedding (or any other noble match, for that matter). Most weddings opted to show off the colours of their houses or countries. Just look at the over the top ensemble Princess Cho had worn just yesterday! So white was very strange indeed. Although it was not without its own symbolisms; purity, youth, innocence; a lamb to the slaughter...

…or the bed chamber.

Ginny shuddered and scowled at the dress once more. Perfect dress it may be but it was one she would never wear because she _not_ going to be marrying Potter.

Ever.

Hovering behind her, a different maid this time tried her luck. "The Queen will be here soon, Your Highness; she'll be very… upset if you're not ready."

Ginny looked across at the worried maid and again felt sorry for the difficult position she was putting the girl in because she was right; 'upset' was a mild way of phrasing her mother's likely reaction to the undressed Ginny. "I'm sorry, Mary" – at least that's what she _thought_ the girl's name was – "but I am _not _putting on that dress."

Gone was the zombie of the past two days. Looking back, Ginny couldn't believe she'd ever sunk so low. What was even worse, she could feel that same state simmering under her skin, waiting for her to give up again. Because that what she'd done; faced with a terrifying future with no foreseeable way out she'd given up.

It wasn't often Ron did something that put her to shame.

She hadn't believed it when Chang had walked down the aisle wailing like a toddler denied their favourite treat. Besides her Fred and George had immediately turned aside to try and contain their laughter. Ginny didn't – couldn't – find it amusing though. Instead, she felt her fists curl up in her lap.

'_Stupid girl_,' she thought, glaring at the snivelling bride as she shuffled up the aisle. So she wasn't happy? Did she think _Ron_ was? But Ron wasn't making a spectacle out of himself, embarrassing his future partner. He was going to do his duty by his parents and his country and he was doing it with a stiff upper lip. So, whilst her brothers sniggered Ginny just sat and stared and _glared_.

And then Ron had started laughing.

Ginny felt her mouth drop open in shock. Even the twins were surprised out of their current mirth.

"Bloody hell," George whispered to Fred, "looks like Court has finally managed to turn one of us mad."

"Thought it would be Perce though," Fred hissed back, making George snort.

But as Ron pulled his still sobbing bride to her feet Ginny felt a strange emotion begin to stir in the pit of her stomach. It was only as Ron pointed the suddenly ecstatic Chang to her own paramour that she identified the feeling; it was hope.

In his wake, Ron left a Church and congregation that were in total uproar. Half the populace were either gaping like fish or exclaiming loudly at this shocking development. In the middle of it all, earning scandalised looks, Chang and the strange noble were still locked in their embrace. Across from them, Chang's family were screaming at each other in angry French.

"And I thought _we_ had it bad," Ginny heard her father murmur to her mother but she didn't turn round to hear them. She didn't turn to see her sister-in-law exclaiming in rapid French to her bemused husband; didn't turn to hear the scandalised speech Percy was giving to a laughing Charlie; didn't even turn to see the twins stand up and give Ron a standing ovation (cries of "Bravo!" intermingled with catcalls to the entangled French couple).

Instead, all Ginny's senses were focused inward, on that ever growing sensation of hope. And with that sensation came a sudden realisation of what exactly the hell she was doing.

'_I am a bloody idiot!_' Ginny thought suddenly, still staring after where Ron had disappeared to find his love. '_A bloody useless, weepy, whining _idiot_! What the hell have I been doing?!_' she wondered, both bewildered and disgusted at herself. '_Am I really just going to sit back and let my parents sell me off to an arsehole of a man just for bloody _duty_?!_'

'_But _he's_ just a servant,_' a darker voice whispered but she pushed it aside.

Then she stopped. Why on Earth was she still fighting this? _Denying_ this? So what if James was a servant? Hermione was a servant and Ron was running off to marry _her_. In the deal they had made with their parents nothing was said of their intended being nobles. No, that assumption was all her and her stupid royal pride; she had never looked anywhere but at those who shared her circle. And even when she _had_ noticed him she had denied it, denied _herself_, because of a stupid sense of propriety.

Well, propriety be _damned_; if Ron could marry a servant so could _she_. Of course, Ginny faltered, it was different for them; Ron _knew_ Hermione loved him. She could not say the same for James. She had never said anything; all they really had was a quidditch match and a few moments by a bonfire. '_That walk through the forest as well_,' she remembered belatedly. It wasn't exactly much and James might well not feel anything for her but Merlin knows, she had to _try_.

So she stood up and, much to the astonishment of her family, ran out the Church after her brother.

By the time Ginny had fought her way through the gossiping crowd Ron had long gone but she didn't let that bother her; after all, she knew _exactly_ where he had gone.

She found it harder than she would've expected to find a horse. She supposed it didn't help that the news of what had happened in the Church had spilled out into the streets along with the various nobles who were eager to find someone to share the latest gossip with.

By the time she'd managed to commandeer a horse she had difficulty getting her horse out of the surging crowd without trampling someone. Luckily it was one of the few times having instantly recognisable Weasley red hair was useful.

"Make way for Her Highness," someone yelled and, miraculously, some semblance of a path appeared in front of her. Not that it actually led to where she wanted to go, but still… it was a start. Eventually breaking free of the annoying crowd Ginny turned her newly acquired horse in the vague direction of Godric's Hollow wishing she had paid more attention the night she ran away. At the time she was too concerned with escaping to pay attention to where _exactly_ she was heading and then, once she learned it was Potter's estate…

The good news was, by sheer dumb luck, she had managed to head off in the right direction. The bad news? She only knew that because the auror team, sent out by their Majesties to intercept Ron, caught up with her first.

Once she had been dragged back, kicking, screaming, swearing and jinxing, the rest of her day had been shut up inside the palace. Not that she had just moped in her room like the Ginny of the day before; that passive Ginevra had disappeared for good. Instead the Ginevra that constantly drove her parents barmy had resurfaced; every escape plan she had ever had was re-enacted, Ginny surprising herself by coming up with several new ones (involving tunnels and flying carpets to name a few).

Despite all her ingenuity and determination however the furthest she had managed to get was the Courtyard (although Ginny maintained if her makeshift flying carpet hadn't suddenly developed a major fault over the ornamental flower garden she would be footloose and fancy free by now).

By nightfall Ginny was exhausted, but determined not to fall back into the defeatist role she had been portraying up till now. '_They might be able to keep me in here but they can't make me walk down that aisle,_' she consoled herself, staring out at the stars. '_They can't make me say '_I do_'.'_

But as she dwelt on that thought her mind inevitably turned towards her captors (aka her parents). Why were they making her do this? True, Ginny sometimes didn't get on with her mother – they both had fierce tempers and very different ideas about what Ginny should do – but she _did_ love her. And Ginny knew that her parents loved their children more than anything else in the world. So why were they making her go through with this when it was obvious – blatantly obvious – that Ginny was miserable?

When she posed that question to Bill – the only relative brave enough to risk her wrath – he kept his expression carefully neutral. "You've got to look at it from their perspective, Gin," he said carefully, leaning against the wall. "Ron just humiliated the crown by walking out on Chang – "

"Pretty sure Chang did all the humiliating," Ginny muttered.

" – and they have to protect their reputation," Bill continued as though he couldn't hear her. "If they don't go ahead with _this_ marriage too then it severely damages the country in the eyes of our neighbours."

"Duty," Ginny translated flatly, glaring at him.

"Duty," Bill agreed.

There was a small pause as Ginny tried not to both burst into tears and scream with frustration at her favourite brother. "If any of our neighbours could meet my 'duty'," she said, through gritted teeth, "I'm pretty sure they'd agree that my not marrying him would be much better for the country – and the human race in general," she added, shuddering at the thought of him procreating (especially with her).

Bill didn't say anything for a while, just stared at her carefully. "Potter might surprise you, Ginny," he said eventually. "He might be more than he seems."

Ginny squinted at him in suspicion and confusion. "Yesterday you couldn't stand him and now you're defending him? Why?"

"Because Mum and Dad are determined that at least one royal marriage will go according to plan," he said with a sigh, looking at her sympathetically. "And I don't think you're getting out of it."

Ginny's suspicious look instantly changed into a scowl. "I think you should leave now, Bill," she said coolly.

And leave he did, but not without one last pitying look that made Ginny want to slap him. So even Bill had given up had he? Just typical. As soon as she started fighting for herself everyone else stopped. And all that stuff about Potter being more than he seemed was bollocks. In fact, without Dursley there to carry the conversation he was probably even less than he seemed already.

Now ensconced in the small waiting room to one side of the cathedral Ginny pushed those thoughts away. Thinking about Bill – or any of her family – left her feeling upset and abandoned, things she didn't feel like feeling right now. Ron hadn't reappeared either which made Ginny feel both relieved and angry. Relieved because it meant he'd probably found Hermione and was running away somewhere with her; angry because he hadn't had the decency to come rescue her first.

Behind her the door clicked and the maids jumped nervously. Ginny didn't move from her position, but already her stomach was beginning to twist, ready for the inevitable argument with her mother. Indeed, when she had taken in Ginny's state of dress – or lack thereof – the Queen's expression tightened but she addressed her stubborn daughter as civilly as she could. "What's the matter, Ginevra? Why aren't you ready?"

"I'm not ready, Mother, because I am _not_ marrying that moron out there," Ginny said as calmly as she could.

Instinctively she tensed herself for her mother's answering yell. The Queen, however, didn't change her expression and, when she spoke, her voice was level and calm. "You will be marrying Earl Potter today, Ginevra, whether you like it or not," she said, sweeping towards her daughter and taking the beautiful dress down. "Now, Marion, Amelia, help my daughter into her dress."

Even as the two maids uncertainly moved forward Ginny shot to her feet incredulously. "Didn't you hear me? I. Am. Not. Marrying. Him!"

"Yes, Ginny, you are."

Ginny threw her arms up in the air in exasperation. "No, Mum, I'm not and you can't make me get into that dress!"

The Queen studied her for a few moments. "Alright, Ginny," she said and turned to the confused maids. "Marion, Amelia, I'm letting you go."

Ginny's horrified expression mirrored those of the maids. "What? Why?"

"Their job is to get you dressed and ready," the Queen said simply. "They haven't managed to do that so I've no choice but to fire them."

Ginny was all at once impressed at her mother's cold heartedness and horrified. "You can't do that – it's my fault!" she protested.

"Well, Ginevra, I'll leave this to your conscience then; if they manage to get you into your dress then their jobs are safe." And she walked out the room.

Ginny was left gaping at where she had exited, furious at how her mother had manipulated her. She very well couldn't get the two girls fired, even more so when she realised that she hadn't even managed to learn their names. Shame now intermingled with the anger.

"We'll be alright, Your Highness," the maid that was Marion, _not_ Mary, said, although both she and Amelia looked terrified and very upset. And for good reason, because Ginny knew that the two girls would _not_ be alright. Having learned a little of the stigma surrounding servants in the past week she knew very well that having been fired from the palace would be a black mark against the two girls for the rest of their lives.

Ginny sighed. '_Well, at least they can't force me down the aisle._'

Apparently they _could_.

It had happened so fast, Ginny still felt a bit dazed as she stood at the top of the long aisle. Her mother had come back in to find Ginny dressed but still refusing to move. In another very un-mother like move however this still didn't seem to bother her Majesty that much. She had simply told Ginny that she looked beautiful (something to which Ginny had responded to with rather a lot of angry swearing), disappeared and then her father had arrived and here she was.

As the royal fanfare sounded out Ginny had a brief moment of panic and, for a split second, considered making one last dash out the doors. As though he could tell what she was thinking however, her father's arm on hers seemed to tense. "No running away from this one, Gin-Gin. Trust me, everything will work out ok."

Work out ok?! Was the man insane? Ginny couldn't help but look up at him incredulously – had he _seen_ the imbecile they had forced her to marry? But, to her utter disbelief, Ginny could swear there was a bloody _smile_ playing around his face. Her mother, she could almost believe of such a crime, but her father?! Ginny always believed he was on their side – that she was his special little girl whom he would do anything for – yet here he was, merrily selling her to the most disgusting, glutinous _blob_ she had ever seen in her life. Instead of making her angry, however, Ginny had to restrain a sob.

So now, after 16 years, did she finally realise how her parents actually saw her; a piece of meat, used for trading and bargaining, but no more useful than that.

'_Well they may have got me in the dress and got me down the aisle,_' Ginny thought in her head, '_but there is nothing – absolutely _nothing – _they can do to make me say yes at the altar._' They should have worried more about their daughters happiness than embarrassing the country because when Ginny refused to marry Potter she wasn't going to do it in any sort of way that was polite, political or graceful. And it would serve her parents right.

A welcome flash of bright yellow distracted Ginny's focus from the ever clearer Potter at the end of her journey and she realised, somewhat incredulously, that Luna had reappeared. In between her tantrums and self-pitying moments, Ginny had asked several times for the strange noble as she often found comfort in the seemingly nonsensical things she said. However, the guards and aurors she'd asked always reported back that she was nowhere to be found. Ginny had assumed that she had fled to wherever Dumbledore had so conveniently vanished to when it was clear that she and Ron were both useless at falling in love.

Luna was dressed much the same way she had been when the two of them had first meet. In other words, she resembled nothing less than a solid wall of yellow. A large sunflower was perched merrily in her hair and she was swaying dreamily, a smile on her face. Unlike with her parents, however, Ginny couldn't blame Luna for her smile. Merlin knows the girl lived in a completely different world from the rest of them most of the time. She did feel some resentment towards the girl, however, for not being there to offer advice or just comfort yesterday when she needed it.

The King suddenly stopped walking and Ginny realised with a start that she was at the end of the aisle. She didn't look at her father as he gave her a kiss on the cheek and wished her luck. The fact that he had been needed to walk her down the aisle at all – not conventional in the slightest – spoke volumes about how she felt about this 'wedding' and how furious she was at him.

Besides her, Potter didn't seem to notice her tense and angry state, instead rather gleefully grabbing her hand in his sweaty paw and pulling her rather roughly to her knees with him.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

As the rest of the congregation rumbled out the rote response, Ginny wrenched her hand away from Potters, scowling at the oblivious priest. Peering at her 'beloved' out of the corner of her eye Ginny shuddered; she didn't think she could wait until the time for the vows came to get out of the cathedral. '_When he calls for an objection, I'll use that instead,_' she thought, trying not to grimace as the archbishop spoke about the joining of two in love together in marriage. '_I think that comes first… doesn't it?_' Bill and Fleur's wedding was a long time ago so she couldn't be sure. '_I'll just keep an ear out._'

As she tried to listen out for her cue Ginny found herself wishing that Potter and she were facing the congregation. Not that ordinarily being the centre of attention for something so embarrassing and infuriating as this 'wedding' was something she enjoyed, but she really wished she could see Dursleys face when she outright refused to marry her disgusting nephew. She had caught a glimpse of the lady as she was led down the aisle; she looked far too satisfied and triumphant for Ginny's liking. '_Well that's all about to change,_' Ginny thought, surprising herself by feeling slightly gleeful.

So absorbed in imagining the horror and fury on Durselys face, when Ginny's cue came she almost missed it.

"If any person knows of a reason why these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace."

"I do: I object!"

Mouth open, the words on the tip of her tongue, it took Ginny a split second to realise that she hadn't, in fact, uttered those words. Someone else had. At first Ginny was a little angry – someone had stolen her line! – and then, as she realised exactly what was happening, she turned round so fast she almost fell over.

Standing at the end of the aisle were three figures, partly obscured by shadows. Around them the stunned congregation were whispering in shock, turning back and forth between the to-be-married couple and the mysterious trio. She could guess what they were hissing about because it was what she wanted to know too; who the hell _were _these people?

Luckily the garish red atop his head made identifying one of them ridiculously easy. The man on the left hand side was her idiotic brother who, far from wanting to kill like she had several times over the past day for abandoning her, Ginny now wanted to kiss for joy.

The second figure, immediately next to Ron, was a lady, wearing what Ginny only belatedly realised was one of her own dresses – the one in heavy bronze and blue which Ginny had never much cared for as it just seemed to clash rather horribly with her own red hair. This lady, however, suited it incredibly well, the strong lighter colours emphasising her own slightly tanned skin and flowing brown hair. The expression on the face was exceedingly happy, she was practically glowing with joy, and also a little bit surprised, as though she was still getting used to the intricate crown that was carefully set on her head. Ginny's mouth fell open in shock – it was Hermione.

And that lead to…

The last figure stepped forward, again repeating his earlier statement, and Ginny nearly did fall over then in shock. It was James – _her_ James – but unlike she'd ever seen him before. He was standing tall and proud, no longer trying to hide in the background as usual, clothed in rich, stunning black and green clothes that had probably come from one of her brothers. His beautiful emerald eyes were flashing with power, anger and... was that a wee bit of glee she detected? He shot a brilliant smile at her that made her breath catch before looking back at the archbishop, all seriousness again.

The archbishop looked a bit thrown by these turn of events. This was now two weddings – two _royal_ weddings, no less – in two days that hadn't exactly gone according to plan. "Er… on what grounds do you object?" he asked eventually, having remembered what it was he was supposed to do.

"Does it matter?" Ginny asked, rather a little too audibly, but despite the appalled looks (and a few chuckles) everyone ignored her. She didn't care; she was too interested to see what James was going to offer as an explanation.

Ginny was impressed. Even with the weight of several hundred members of nobility staring at him, James still spoke strong and proud, treating the archbishop and the Court with the same courtesy and ease that he had with the Death Eaters in the forest. Ginny's stomach fluttered as his voice rang out clearly through the cathedral. "I object on the grounds that this wedding is being undertaken under false pretences."

There was confused murmuring at this statement, something Ginny herself wanted to indulge in. She frowned at him, not exactly sure where James was going. There were no false pretences to be had, unless you counted the fact that neither of them loved each other, but, sadly, most marriages didn't count that as a good enough reason for matrimony. Her own wedding was a good example of that.

"What do you mean?" the archbishop asked, evidently as confused as all of them.

"What he means is," Hermione said, stepping forward to join her friend, "is that _that_ is not Earl Harry James Potter." And she pointed triumphantly at Potter.

'_Honestly, I'm going to have serious neck ache at the end of this evening_,' Ginny thought as she whipped her head round yet again, to stare at Earl Potter. Or not Earl Potter, as apparently was the case. "Wait, what? You're not Potter?" she repeated, incredulously. '_Totally didn't see _that_ one coming! Surely it _can't_ be true?_' she thought even as she prayed with all her might that it was.

Apparently her prayers were answered. Potter – or fake-Potter – went white as a sheet and began to tremble. Staring at James in horror, fake-Potter looked over desperately at his aunt. Or not-aunt. Petunia, whoever she was.

But Lady Petunia was not looking at the quivering wreck next to the altar. Instead, her venomous look was directed solely at James. "You!" she hissed, eyes bulging in outrage. "You ruined _EVERYTHING_! We could have been royalty if it weren't for you and your repulsive unnatural ways! How many times do I have to get rid of you, you good for nothing, disgusting _FREAK!"_

Ginny couldn't believe the pure bile that had just poured out of Petunia's mouth. Judging by the gasps of horror around the chapel, she wasn't the only one. James, however, merely rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Aunt Petunia, whatever you say."

Wait; did James just say _Aunt_ Petunia?

Ron, looking disgusted and gleeful at the same time, now stepped forward. "Guards!" he commanded. "Arrest them!"

He _did_ just say Aunt Petunia.

There was a bit of a scuffle as the aurors surged forward to grab both fake-Potter and Lady Petunia (a task made harder by the fact that Petunia had started screaming in rage again, froth actually flying from her mouth as she ranted and raved. Fake-Potter on the other hand seemed to have been broken and was led away quite meekly). As they were being led away, however, Petunia's shrieks were somewhat dampened by the spontaneous cheering. Seemed that Ginny wasn't the only one utterly relieved by the removal of the Dursleys from court.

Sweet Merlin. Does that mean what I think it does?

James watched his family being taken away with a happy, yet slightly saddened look on his face. Catching sight of her looking at him, however, he walked forward, a little more nervously than before and stopped in front of her. Ginny got to her feet.

Oh my God, he really is. He's Earl Harry Potter.

"You're Harry Potter," she told him faintly, staring at him in shock. Then, "_You're_ Harry Potter? I don't believe this! Why in Merlin's name didn't you say anything?" She broke off, all the things that James had told her about his family that hated him clicked into place and she felt like a right idiot herself. "Then we wouldn't have had to go through all this ridiculous drama and my heart wouldn't be - " She broke off, exasperated and embarrassed. She'd never come that close to admitting her true feelings to even herself before and there she was, ready to spurt out a confession in front of most of the Court. Butterflies twisted in her stomach as a rosy hue rose in her cheeks at the sudden surge of long-suppressed feelings. "You're an idiot!" she said eventually, to cover for her blush. And, to make her point extra clear, she hit him.

Harry looked a little bit hurt at that (not the punch, she wasn't sure he actually felt that under all those muscles, but at her words). "I wanted to tell you, but you wouldn't have believed me. No," he added, when she tried to protest that she bloody well would have. "No, Your Highness, you wouldn't – not when we first met. And then, when we both thought you would trust us enough, it was too late."

Ginny paused and considered that for a little while. He was right, she knew he was right – it was part of the same reasons why Hermione had never told Ron that she was just a commoner. She had understood that completely, and even tried to beat Ron into seeing sense about it, too. It was obviously, she thought ruefully, a lot harder when you were on the receiving end of it.

"Ginny," she said, suddenly. Harry blinked and stared at her in confusion. She huffed, a little playfully. "If we're going to be married, you should at least get to call me by my first name. A little awkward otherwise, don't you think?"

Harry blushed then, but he tried to keep his expression serious. "Look, I lied to you about who I was and you've been tricked and duped so many times in the last week… I spoke to your parents last night and if you don't want to marry me then you don't have to, Your.. er, Ginny."

Ginny stared at him, not quite sure what he meant by that. Did it mean he didn't want to marry her? No, Ginny decided, trying not roll her eyes. He did, he was just being noble. Idiot.

"You, Earl Harry Potter, are an idiot."

And she gave him the biggest kiss she could.

_~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After_

Harry was cold, miserable and finding it extremely hard to focus.

Shivering, he tried in vain to find a more comfortable spot on the hard, rough floor but there was no point; not while the dementors were so close.

Next to him Padfoot whined and tried to curl up closer to his side. The dog animagus was like a hot water bottle but there was no use in sharing his warmth when the cold came from inside. Harry gave him a weak smile and ran shaky fingers through Padfoot's coarse, shaggy fur. "I'm alright, Padfoot."

He was _not_ alright.

It had been two days since he'd been captured and dragged away from his home; two days since he'd seen Tonks, Remus and Hermione; two days since Aunt Petunia had shown she had outwitted them all.

Two days since Harry had given up.

Almost as soon as they'd been dragged away from the house he had felt that first shiver of clammy despair curling up his spine. He'd still been in shock and too dazed from the spells to realise what had been going on until it was too late. By the time he'd even thought about fighting back the dementors were surrounding them and all resistance had fled right alongside all his happy thoughts.

It had been two very long, very difficult days. From what he and Sirius could overhear they were being taken to Azkaban, the realm's most secure prison. How Petunia had managed to arrange for the two of them to be imprisoned there without going through the standard royal channels surprised Harry for only a short while before he brushed it off with a surge of anger and disgust. It seemed corruption was everywhere in the Kingdom.

However Petunia had managed to bribe and blackmail their way into Azkaban, she couldn't make the realities of travelling there any faster. All prisoners had to spend the entire journey under dementor guard by royal decree… which meant that nearly all such journeys had to take place on foot. For some unknown reason, horses were on of the few creatures that reacted to a dementor's presence, ensuing that carts, wagons and carriages were out of the question. Harry knew that high-profile prisoners were sent by portkey but there were only five authorised portkey creators in the Kingdom and each request had to be approved by their Majesties first. Triumphant she may be, but Petunia wasn't completely foolish; she wasn't going to risk _that_, not when they were so close.

What that had meant for Harry and Sirius was two days of non-stop walking. Ordinarily this would be no problem for the servants but add in the constant drain from the dementors, sever lack of food and scant hours of sleep then it was the most exhausting trial either of them had faced before.

As though sensing his dark thoughts, Padfoot whined again and gave Harry's hand a slobbery kiss. Harry grimaced, wiping the drool off on his trousers, and fought to keep the surge of jealousy at bay. As an animagus, Sirius had a way of retreating at night from the drain of the dementor's relentless presence. Harry had no such ability; he had to endure the long nights as best he could.

'_But I don't deserve that respite,_' Harry thought bitterly, hand clenching into a fist as he thought back to his idiocy that night. The presence of the dementors made this very easy; he barely had to think of it before the memory was swimming into focus in his mind. He could still feel that incredible anger when he realised exactly what Petunia was planning, that stupid reckless anger that caused him to dash off like a hot-headed idiot and confront his relatives.

'_Why didn't I stay and explain to her? She might have believed me or at least lent enough doubt for a proper investigation. And now I've condemned her to live with Dudley for the rest of her life._' He buried his head in his hands. '_Not to mention condemned everyone I've ever loved and cared about,_' he added, dementors helping to easily bring to mind the horrified faces of Remus, Hermione and Tonks.

No, Harry definitely deserved to be caught.

The others didn't.

"You've got to stop that, Harry."

Harry turned to stare dully at the recently transformed Sirius. It had only been two days but already he could see the marks the dementors had left on Sirius' face. It was there in the sudden gauntness of his cheek' the tightness around his lips' the hint of despair swimming in his eyes. Harry briefly wondered how much worse he would look. "Stop what?"

"_Blaming_ yourself!" Sirius replied exasperated. "This is _not_ your fault."

Harry gave a hollow laugh. "Not my fault, Sirius?" he repeated incredulously. He motioned around them; at the dingy small stone hut they were ensconced in; at the four silent dementors standing at the corners, watching them, just waiting for their chance to administer one last kiss. "Look around, look at where we are. We're surrounded by dementors, in a locked hut, surrounded by armed guards, heading to Azkaban and all because it acted like a hot-headed _idiot_."

As Harry's waving hand made to hit the dirt floor for emphasis Sirius caught it with his own. "No, Harry: this is _Petunia's_ fault. All of it." They'd had this conversation many times before, enough that Harry knew exactly what Sirius would say next. "What we need to do is find a way to escape."

"Sirius…"

"No, Harry, I mean it," Sirius said, fresh determination giving him a surge of energy. "I know you think it's hopeless, but I've been thinking about it all day. The guards don't know about Padfoot – I can startle them, even knock a few down."

"Sirius…"

"Padfoot confuses the dementors, they won't realise what's happening," Sirius carried on, purposefully ignoring Harry's weary protests. "I can get a wand off one of the guards. Then all I need to do is to get back to you and we can side-along apparate back to Godric's Hollow."

On the whole Harry supposed it wasn't that bad a plan. There were, however, one or two big flaws that he could see. "And when the dementors feel something going wrong – or even if the guards just let out a yell – then they'll be headed straight for me."

Sirius' face fell a little at that. "I hadn't thought of… you'll have to just, erm… bob and weave."

Despite their dire situation Harry couldn't help the small snort that forced its way out at that. "'Bob and weave' to avoid the dementors?" he said, trying hard not to laugh as his imagination brought forth images of him ducking and rolling around dementors to mind. "Yes, that'll work like a charm."

Sirius even managed a smile at that one, but it quickly slid off his face. "Careful, Harry; you're getting the dementors excited." That part was definitely true at least. Harry had barely enough time to register his own amusement before the feeling was sucked out of him, leaving him even more despondent and cold than before.

"Forget it, Sirius," Harry said, sighing and moving to lay back down on the cold floor again. "Petunia's won."

Next to him, Sirius shifted slightly as though he were about to protest, but he said not a word. Instead he sighed and, with a quiet pop, transformed back into Padfoot and once more snuggled into Harry's side. It was hard to remain optimistic too long with the dementors figuratively breathing down their necks.

Sleep had been an elusive beast the past few nights for Harry and any sleep he did manage to grab almost invariable ended as a nightmare. Tonight was no exception. He was chained and bound to the floor of a side-room in a strange large space. Even unconscious the dementor's presence couldn't be escaped from; they surrounded him as they had in every dream thus far, their chilling presence still felt even through sleep. As Harry struggled uselessly against the bonds that bound him, grand organ music began to play and he looked about him, confused.

Then he saw something that made him forget to struggle all at once.

The Princess was walking down the aisle, clad in splendid red and gold, diamonds sparkling from her hair and face veiled in fine gold netting. As she walked across the room other figures materialised out of the strange void, filling the space with shadowy, well dressed men and women. As someone large and rotund materialised in the direction Ginevra was walking Harry belatedly realised where he was and what exactly was going on.

'_This is a Church – this is her wedding!_'

As Ginevra walked up to the smirking Dudley he lifted back her veil and Harry could see how miserable she looked, tears streaking down her face. As Dudley took her hand and led her towards the priest thick, black manacles materialised around her wrists. Even though the added weight made her arms drop, the Princess made no sound. Silent as she was, however, the clanking of the chains carried loudly in the vast space.

Harry tried to call out to her, yelling at Dudley to let go off her…

… But no sound came out.

Struggling quickly exhausted him and he was left panting, helplessly watching as Dudley and Ginevra mimed their way through the wedding ceremony. Ginevra was clearly reluctant but she had no choice – the chains would jerk her arms this way or that, depending on what she needed to do. Harry's gaze followed the links of the chain back, racing along the links to find who was controlling them.

His stomach dropped.

Aunt Petunia held a fistful of chains in her hands, an expression of pure glee on her face as she jerked poor Ginevra all about. She had never looked so triumphant – '_Or evil,_' Harry thought, shuddering – as she did in that moment, extending her grip to control the royal family. This was evident in the number of chain's she held within her grasp; only one of those led to the Princess. Following the other links, Harry's horrified gaze fell on Ronald, whose manacled hands grasped a shadowy bride, whilst ethereal chains were approaching other members of the Royal family. They weren't solid, not yet, but even as Harry watched the metal became thicker, darker and more solid. Following the other chains to see who else Petunia had ensnared, Harry felt his breath catch once more.

At the very back of the Church, four dark figures were strung up by their wrists, arms hoisted painfully behind their backs. They dangled and jerked in time as Petunia pulled on their restraints, legs swinging uncontrollably. Harry swallowed uncomfortably as he took in their pained faces; Remus, Tonks, Sirius and Hermione.

Almost as though they could sense his gaze all four figures turned and stared at him with accusing eyes. "Your fault," Remus whispered softly and this time Harry could clearly hear him. As the other three added their hissing condemnations to his Harry wished he was deaf again. Their hissing remarks echoed round the cavernous Church, getting louder and louder.

Harry turned away from them, tears in his eyes, hoping if he couldn't see them then he wouldn't be able to hear them either. His plan didn't work, however; as soon as he turned back to the main congregation he discovered that they were all staring at him, too.

"Your fault," Ronald hissed, lifting his manacled hands.

Harry swallowed as Ginevra too turned to him. Her eyes were full of despair but hatred filled them as she looked over at him. "Your fault," she whispered, motioning with her chained hands to the triumphant Dudley.

"No!" Harry cried out. "No, I tried, it was her – all her!"

But even as he tried to motion with his bound hands to his aunt, he knew it was no use. Ginevra was already turning away from him, tears silently falling. She couldn't hear him. No one could.

"I can hear you, Potter."

Harry looked up at his aunt, a fury and hatred he never knew he could feel before was suddenly coursing through his veins. In this surge of loathing even the effect of the dementors was diminished. "You won't get away with this!" he mouthed soundlessly, raging against his constraints.

She just laughed at him. "Get away, Potter?" she questioned, smirking. "I've already got away with it." And then she held up a chain.

With a start Harry realised that the chain she held now was his; and Harry suddenly saw that he was no longer on the floor but hovering above it, dangling above a bottomless pit; and then she was letting the chain go; and Harry was falling, falling…

Falling.

But the dementors weren't letting him go that easy. Even as he fell, as he was buffeted and shaken from the roaring wind of the tunnel , he could see them swooping down towards him, hands reaching out as though to save him. But they weren't trying to save him…

As he fell Harry belatedly wondered what would be worse – dying from impact or having his soul lost long before he hit the ground. The argument was moot in any case; the choice was not up to him. It was up to the dementor, the one that had managed to grasp his arm and that was pulling him close in a sick parody of a lover's embrace. And now his head was being forced upwards and the hood was down and the dementor was coming closer…

… closer…

"Harry! Harry wake up – something's happening!"

Sirius' shaking jolted Harry back down to Earth, mind swimming as he blinked away the last fragments of his dream. The extreme cold he felt was the one thing that he couldn't dissipate and he shivered, the memory of that mouth coming back to his mind.

"Harry! Harry!" Sirius was still shaking him, concerned but strangely excited.

"What is it, Sirius?" Harry asked sluggishly. What on earth could Sirius be excited about in their situation?

"Listen!"

Still slightly out of it from his vivid nightmare, it took a while for Harry to recognise what it was that Sirius wanted him to hear. When he did, however, he found all remnants of sleep and dream immediately banished. "Is that… is that _spell fire_?" he asked, both incredulously and suddenly hopeful.

Sirius was nodding, grinning. "It is, it is!"

"Do you think… could it be…?" Harry didn't dare even finish his sentence but Sirius knew what he meant and only continued his ecstatic nodding.

"It must be – who else would be so foolish as to attack Azkaban guards?" he reasoned, pulling Harry to his feet. There were no windows in the way station but that didn't stop either of them from squinting, trying to see any hint of spellwork.

It wasn't the light of jinxes that caught Harry's eyes however; it was something far more sinister.

"Erm… Sirius," he said, looking around. The resurgence of optimism was gradually disappearing. "The dementors…"

Snapping back to their surroundings, Sirius swore as he saw what Harry had seen; the dementors were getting restless.

In fact, they were getting closer.

"Might need to try that bob and weaving now, pup," he said, all humour from before disappearing as he transformed back to Padfoot. Almost as though this were a signal the dementors gave up any pretence at guarding and began moving in towards the two of them at an alarming speed.

Harry bobbed and weaved for his life.

To say it was difficult would be an extreme understatement. Nearly everything was working against him, after all; forgetting tiredness and hunger, the dementors drain on him was even stronger now that they were so much closer and were excited. Then they were in a very small enclosed space and the dementors didn't react to Harry's ducking and rolling as a normal human would. They just pivoted gracefully in whatever new direction Harry turned.

Padfoot helped as best he could, snapping, biting and leaping all over the place. It wasn't enough. In a frightening echo of his nightmare one of the dementors grabbed hold of his arm as he tried to dodge past. Padfoot let out an anguished howl but as he tried to bite the dementor holding Harry another one intercepted him and threw him off and into a wall.

A million thoughts were swirling round Harry's head as he faced that gaping maw. Thoughts about his parents, how he'd let them down; how he had condemned his family to suffer and die; how he'd never get a chance to make the world better.

How he'd never get to save Ginevra from his cousin.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Suddenly Harry's world was awash with glowing silver. As the silver light brought a swelling of forgotten happiness the dementor gripping his face let out an inhuman shriek and backed away. Collapsing to all fours on the ground Harry panted, muscles trembling both with fear at how close he'd come to being lost and with relief at being warm.

"Harry! Harry, are you alright?"

Sirius was shaking him again, tone fearful. He couldn't tell if that dementor had kissed him or not and Harry supposed his non-responsive state wasn't giving his Godfather much reassurance. "I'm… I'm ok, Sirius," he coughed out eventually, another flash of silver patronus light highlighting Sirius' frantic face. "Still here."

"Thank Merlin," Sirius cried hoarsely, dragging the younger man into a hug. Letting himself be held, Harry stared over his Godfather's shoulder to see his rescuers and found his mouth drop open.

The dementors safely herded to the back wall of the way station, the two matching otter patroni swam through the air back to their casters. Disappearing in a flash of silver light, Ronald and Hermione stared at each other, mouths open and very red in the face.

"Your… your patronus is an otter?" he asked her, faintly.

Hermione went even redder as she nodded. "Y-yes. Always."

Ronald opened her mouth as though to say something but then closed it, looking completely blown away. Harry took that as his cue to interrupt.

"Hermione?" he asked faintly, pulling out of Sirius' embrace. "What's going on?"

Snapped out of her strange moment with the Prince, Hermione's gaze snapped over to him in an instant and she flew over to him. "Harry!" she shrieked, grabbing him in a massive hug. "Thank Merlin you're alright!"

"I'm alright?" Harry repeated, completely bemused and still not entirely sure what had just happened. How did she get there? He asked her that very question as she was embracing Sirius, surreptitiously checking him over for injuries as she went.

Hermione bit her lip, unconsciously rubbing at her wrists. "It's a long story," she said slowly. "One I don't think I can tell more than once and not right now."

"Remus?" Sirius croaked suddenly. "The basement… did you…?" He broke off, looking both eager for news and afraid to hear it. Unfortunately Hermione could do little relieve his fears.

"We got him out, Sirius," she said, clasping his hands. "Well, Dumbledore did."

"Dumbledore?" Harry echoed surprised and all at once feeling hopeful. He craned his head over Hermione's shoulder as though he would see the older man's flowing whitebeard glowing in the dark. "Where is he?"

But Hermione was shaking her head. "Remus was… oh, Sirius, he looked awful," she said in a rush, watching him carefully. "Dumbledore said he had a friend who would be able to help him and he took both Remus and Tonks with him. That was more than a day ago and we haven't seen him since."

While Sirius and Harry digested this uncertain news, Harry caught sight of the royal Prince approaching them awkwardly over Hermione's shoulder. Stumbling to his feet, Harry watched him carefully. "Hello, Your Highness," he said cautiously.

Ronald jumped at that. "Erm, hello," he replied, squinting at Harry as though he'd never seen him properly before. "So, um, Hermione says you're the real Earl Potter."

Harry shifted awkwardly now. "Yes," he admitted before he was hit by a flashback of his dream. "Wait, Ginevra – I mean, Her Highness – she hasn't… is Dudley…" This time it was he who couldn't bear to finish the sentence.

Ronald, however, grinned. "Don't worry; their marriage – er, _your_ marriage – is scheduled for tomorrow." To Harry's complete surprise he even let out an evil little laugh. "Bloody hell, I can't wait to throw that awful Dursley woman in jail! She'll be cursing and screaming the whole way to Azkaban, I reckon." Suddenly remembering that Harry _was_ in fact related to Petunia he stopped and looked at him awkwardly again. "I mean, erm, I know she's your aunt but – "

"Are you joking?" Harry asked, laughing in turn. "I've been waiting to throw her to the dementors my entire life!"

As Ronald's worried expression dissolved once more into a grin someone poked their head round the hut door. "Hey, Prince Ron," the man said and Harry was surprised to realise it was that Death Eater – Dean Thomas' - voice. What on earth were Ron and Hermione doing with _them_? "Now you've had your happy reunion, fancy moving it outside? It'll be easier to control the dementors that way."

That was true, Harry realised, looking back with a shudder at the dementors. They were being held back by a couple of strange patronuses, but these were flickering slightly. Although he still scowled at being addressed so informally it was clear that Ronald could see the sense in Thomas' words too. "Right," he said, offering a hand to pull Hermione back to her feet. "Coming out now."

Emerging into the open air, Harry was met with even more surprises. Far from coming with a band of royal aurors – or even standard guards – as he'd supposed, it seemed Ron and Hermione had enlisted their fellow rescuers solely from the country's most wanted: the Death Eaters.

Well, almost solely…

"Greetings, lightning-bearer!" the Lady Lovegood said, floating over to him with a big smile on her face. Ignoring the very obvious point that Harry had _no_ idea why she was there in the first place, he couldn't believe that they'd let her come along dressed like _that_. From what he knew of the Lady it was very 'Luna', to be sure, but he wasn't sure that fluorescent silver and gold robes were the best choice for a midnight ambush.

"Erm… hello, Lady Luna," he said uncertainly, bowing to her formally as one noble to another. The Lady Luna, however, did not seem to be much in the mind for formality; she grabbed him into a massive hug.

Eventually breaking out from the embrace Harry went red as he beheld Hermione, Sirius and Ronald smirking at him. "You know, we never would have found you if it weren't for the Lady Luna," Hermione said, smiling at the younger witch.

Harry and Sirius turned to look at Luna in surprise. "You what?" Sirius asked, forgetting his manners.

Luckily Luna never seemed to mind the discourtesy that followed in her wake. "You _are_ the lightning bearer, Earl," she said, as though speaking to a small child. "You're important. I had to find where you were."

"She came to us a couple of nights ago," Thomas broke in unexpectedly, studying Harry intently. "Didn't see why one missing servant – or noble, for that matter – was any of our business. Riddle thought otherwise."

Harry felt like adding that he agreed with Thomas. He was just one noble and, judging by his track record (kept as a servant, outwitted by his bitchy, scheming muggle aunt), not a very smart _or_ powerful one.

Thomas, however, couldn't hear Harry's internal self-deprecation and carried on. "We were running every spell we could think of, investigating in the town like bloody aurors, scouting all over the place." He grinned. "Actually rather enjoyed it; nice having a purpose."

"I still don't understand why you all did that for me though!" Harry said, bewildered. Hermione he could understand and even to some extent Ronald. But Luna's belief that he was something more than he seemed – a belief that she seemed to have passed on to the _Death Eaters_, for Merlin's sake – was overwhelming, confusing and a little bit scary. "And don't you _dare_ say because I'm the lightning bearer, my Lady, unless you _explain _it!"

Lady Luna cocked her head to one side and regarded him quietly. Harry had half resigned himself to being left clueless again when Luna began to speak. "A lightning bearer brings change," she said simply.

Everyone stared at her. "Change?" Ronald said, clearly not sure whether to laugh or be confused. "Is that it?"

Luna turned her solemn eyes on him. "Change is not something trivial and unimportant, Ronald," she said in the most serious voice Harry had ever heard her use. "It is vital, necessary. Without it Kingdoms fall, cities wither away and we are all forgotten."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He had big plans, of course, but they were all for the future; he hadn't done anything yet. He found it extremely disconcerting that such an odd girl could look at him and proclaim his… well, _destiny_, for lack of a better word. When he mentioned this to her, however, Luna just smiled in her usual dreamy manner.

"The changes you bring are happening all around you right now, Harry," she said, waving at everyone in the clearing. "Servants, Death Eaters, nobles and royalty all acting as equals; plans of building a new school; proposals to change several unfair laws… lightning has already brought down a storm of renewal."

"But that is all because of _Hermione_, not me," Harry protested, feeling slightly panicky. "Surely _she_ is the lightning bearer."

But Luna just smiled again. "She is one of your instruments, yes, but her dreams come from you – and her actions come from both loyalty to and love of _you_, Earl Potter. You _are_ the lightning bearer."

There was a heavy silence. Everyone either avoided eye contact with the perplexed Harry or they looked at him with a faint air of disbelief that someone so unimportant looking could play such a vital role. Ronald was one of the former whilst Thomas was definitely one of the latter. Hermione just looked at him proudly. And then there was Sirius…

"I feel like I should be practicing my curtsy," Sirius said as he performed the most outrageous curtsy he could think of. "My great lord of storm and lightning, what a great honour it is to be in your presence," he simpered, fawning at Harry's sleeve.

That broke the tension nicely. "Shut up, Padfoot, you idiot," Harry laughed, dealing his Godfather a cuff over the head.

"To have been struck by the great lightning bearer!" Sirius wailed ecstatically, nursing his head as though it were a badge of honour. Everyone just laughed.

"Come on, lightning bearer," Hermione said eventually, giving Harry a one armed hug. "We've got a wedding to crash."

_~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After_

**Authors Note:**

:') Cheesy, fluffy but I love it! There's probably a load of mistakes in the first section simply because when I wrote it (and then when I read it back) I got too excited to proof-read it properly. If anyone spots any, please let me know! Luna is a bit ooc towards the end but the way I see it the whole 'lightning bearer' thing is a concept that she feels is important everyone gets right so she explains it a little differently/more clearly than she would anything else.

I know I said this was the last chapter but this one got a lot longer than I anticipated (a whole dream sequence found its way in there somehow!) that I didn't want to make it over 10,000 words. As a consequence there will be one more (probably short) chapter and then the epilogue to come now. Hopefully it will come along a lot sooner than this chapter! :)

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	23. Chapter 22: Happily

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** - '_blah_' = thoughts

- Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Happily**

"I don't know whether to kiss you or hit you!" Ginny exclaimed, seemingly equally torn between scowling at her new husband and grinning at him. "And everyone else for that matter!"

Next to her Harry just laughed and caught her hand. "We couldn't tell you, Your… Ginny," he corrected, still getting used to calling his _wife_ by her first name. '_Forget that, I'm having trouble just thinking of her _as_ my wife._'

Ginny turned her scowl onto him but it seemed his hand in hers mollified her slightly. "Why the bloody hell not?" she demanded, looking from him to her brother and new sister-in-law and then onto her slightly ashamed parents. "Do you think I would have put up so much of a fuss if I had known I didn't have to marry Pot – Dudley?"

Looked like Harry wasn't the only one having to get used to new names.

"We didn't want to give Petunia any indication that something was wrong," King Arthur said, putting out a hand to rest on his daughter's shoulders. "Once we heard the truth from Ron, Hermione and, er, Harry then we realised exactly how manipulative and slippery she was." The King shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry to say that even to her it must have been obvious that you weren't happy marrying her neph – son. If you had suddenly bounded down the aisle, eager and excited, she would have suspected something… especially because she knew the connection between Ron and Hermione and they'd been in the Church yesterday to see Ron disappear."

Ginny didn't say anything for a little while. Even though Harry had only met their Majesties the night before he knew that they were uncomfortable speaking about their stubbornness in pushing through Ginevra's marriage to Dudley, especially when it was clear to both of them how miserable it had made her. By the way Ginny's hand stiffened in his he was sure that she was still unhappy about that but was ignoring it for now. After all, Dudley was sitting in a damp miserable cell somewhere and not on her arm.

They were currently at what passed for their wedding reception. A royal banquet had been prepared and was presumably being enjoyed by the majority of the Court. Aside from a brief appearance, however, the wedding party had made use of a much smaller room in one of the palace's many towers. Harry wasn't sure why, but he rather thought it was aimed at not overwhelming either himself or Hermione. After all, they were not exactly used to the large gossiping crowds of the royal court. Not to mention both of them had been almost literally to hell and back the past week or so, trying to undermine Petunia.

So, instead of the inquisitive stares of unknown Lords and Ladies, the two sets of newlyweds only had to contend with annoying, teasing older brothers (and, in Harry and Hermione's case, older Godfathers). It was a cosy atmosphere, familial, and after days in isolation and imprisonment, it was exactly what Harry, Hermione and indeed Sirius needed. It was just a shame that Remus and Tonks weren't there to be with them.

Next to him Ginny sighed and picked unenthusiastically at her pastry. She'd been lapsing into melancholy silences every now and again the whole time and now, as the subject of conversation moved on around them, he thought it a good a time as any to enquire.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked her quietly leading her gently away. He tried to hide the own anxiety in his voice as he voiced his query. Although she had agreed to marry him, and he her, they were still very new in their relationship. He didn't think that she agreed to marry him out of duty – the massive kiss she'd given him was proof of that – but he wondered in her quiet moments if she regretted it. They hardly knew each other after all.

Apparently they knew each other better than he thought. "I don't regret marrying you, if that's what you mean," she said, lips quirking slightly. "It's certainly a much better deal than I was expecting," she added, shivering.

Harry frowned. "I… you didn't have to marry me just because I seemed the best out of a bad bunch," he said, not sure if he was hurt, appalled or both.

Ginny seemed to catch herself then. "Oh – no, that's not what I meant," she growled, clearly frustrated. "I didn't agree to marry you just because you're a hell of a lot more handsome than your cousin. No, that didn't come out right either!" she said, going red as Harry sniggered. "Shut up. I agreed to marry you because, well… you're not afraid to beat me at Quidditch. You actually have something in between your ears rather than just your own self-importance. You think about other people and then _do_ something about it, something I wish I did more of," she admitted, sighing. Harry was just watching her, amazed. A few days ago – sod that, even a few _hours_ ago he would never have imagined that the Princess had noticed that much about him when he was acting as James Gryffindor. "You make me laugh. And," she added, grinning cheekily, "I got a very nice view of your bottom that day in the woods."

Harry spluttered at that, nearly spraying his drink all over his laughing wife. He tried to think of something to say in response but nothing came to mind. Instead he felt his face get hotter and hotter. '_Well, at least she doesn't seem upset at her parents anymore._' The King and Queen were currently talking with a much spruced up Sirius, watching the newlyweds with a knowing eye. Sirius, who seemed to be reverting back to a three year old, just made kissy faces at Harry, quickly covered up with a series of coughs as the King turned back to him.

"What about you?" Ginny asked suddenly, having poured him a new drink. "You'd just got your house, title, life – bloody hell, your whole identity back – and then agreed to marry me? Why?"

Why indeed. That was a question he'd been asking himself a lot, trying to narrow it down to what seemed the truth. She was right, of course; he had promised himself and others a lot of work now that Godric's Hollow was back in his hands. It wasn't going to be easy and he had just made it a hell of a lot harder by becoming a husband. So why did he say yes, knowing all this?

He could say it was because he didn't often find someone that could challenge _him_, at least in terms of Quidditch. When it came to intellectual knowledge Hermione outranked him, hand over fist. Maybe it was because there was just this _fire_ about her, this irrepressible spirit that meant she played Quidditch when she shouldn't; meant that she ran away in the middle of the night to find new adventures; meant she argued with and fought with Death Eaters when everyone else would just give in.

Perhaps it was the way that she saw him when he was nothing but a servant.

"I wanted to marry you," Harry said eventually, "because when I look at you I see the person I want to spend the rest of my life with."

Ginny stared at him, mouth wide open. Before she could say anything, however, someone beat her to it.

"Aaw… listen to the ickle love birds, George."

"Aren't they so sweet?"

Both red headed twins ducked as Ginny aimed a massive slap at them. "Gits!" she snapped, half laughing. Harry just stared, trying not to laugh. He'd met the twins – as, of course, he'd met everyone in the family – the night before at Ron and Hermione's wedding, but he hadn't had a chance to talk with them much. "You could learn a few things from Harry, you know."

"True, true," one of the twins agreed, slinging an arm around Harry's shoulders. "He certainly seems very good at getting rid of unwanted relatives."

"Hey, maybe you can help us get rid of Percy?" the other twin, grinning wickedly.

"Maybe he could help us finally be rid of the two of you," another voice interjected wryly and Harry turned to see the eldest Weasley brother – Crown Prince William – raising an eyebrow pointedly at the twins. Harry smiled gratefully at him; he wasn't sure he wanted his reputation in Court to be as 'the Earl who sent his family to Azkaban'.

"What, get rid of us?" Fred or George said, looking offended. "Never!"

"You'd all turn into miniature Percys in a matter of days!" George or Fred agreed.

"Too right, Fred," the twin who was apparently George said. "Either that or die of boredom."

"Well, I don't know about that last," Ginny said, smiling innocently. "All the excitement around here has been because of Harry and Hermione. You two don't even register anymore."

The twins mouths dropped open as Harry tried to stifle his laughter. William had no such qualms and burst out into loud guffaws. "Oh dear, Fred and George. Looks like you've been replaced."

At the twins look of horror even Harry couldn't stifle his laughter anymore. "Don't worry," Harry reassured the twins in between laughs. "I don't exactly consider myself a prankster."

"Well that's what's so disheartening," Ginny said in mock sorrow. "Poor Fred and George have spent their entire lives trying to outprank each other and cause as much mayhem as possible. You and Hermione come along and, in little more than a week, have caused a level of chaotic confusion and excitement greater than they ever have in their entire lives."

"Not only that," William jumped in, "but you both have been _congratulated_ and, dare I say it, thanked for causing such upheaval and turmoil."

Ginny nodded solemnly. "Welcomed into the family with open arms and everything."

Ginny and William may have been trying to pass him and Hermione off as the new 'Fred and George' but Harry rather thought they were doing rather a good impression of the royal twins themselves. It was rather eerie.

Fred and George didn't seem to have noticed however; they were too busy staring at Harry in something akin to awe. "They're right, Fred," George said.

"Totally right, George," Fred agreed. "Not even a hint of Scotland or dear old Aunt Muriel."

"We have been thoroughly bested," George said sorrowfully.

"And not just by Harry and Hermione either," Fred reminded his brother. "Today is the day when our dear ickle Ronnikins has done something we thought him incapable of; participating in our downfall."

At that George let out some sort of wail, clutching at his brother as they both wailed and bemoaned together. Yet again Harry was reduced to laughter. Damn, it felt good to be able to laugh again! Ginny wasn't laughing but she was smirking at her brother's antics. William just rolled his eyes although he couldn't help the grin that came out. Apparently this kind of melodrama was common place in the royal household.

Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, Harry found himself wondering at the strange family he now suddenly found himself a part of. Growing up he couldn't help but speculate what the mysterious royal family was like. Because of their previous obscurity Remus and Sirius had no tales to tell of King Arthur and his family, meaning everything Harry dreamt up was purely from his imagination.

When he was younger his thoughts had conjured up a family who would be his friends, love him, and take him away from his mean aunt and uncle. Later on that image had been replaced by one of a family full of Dudleys. Ones who didn't care how mean his relatives were to him and his friends, who laughed at him when he fell down or hurt himself. Age and life and transformed that image into what his experience had told him was most likely; cold, indifferent, self-absorbed, superior nobles who couldn't see past the last of their gold.

Oh, how wrong he had been.

Looking back at the still lamenting twins Harry was almost tempted to apologise for stealing their glory but he desisted. Intentional or not, Harry didn't think that the twins would hold much respect for a 'prankster' who apologised for his jokes. Instead he said, "You two should really talk to Sirius. He and my Dad used to play pranks at Durmstrang all the time when they were there; you could swap stories."

"Really?" The twins dropped their miserable demeanour at once.

"Yeah, he's over there," Harry affirmed, waving to where Sirius was talking with Percy and Charlie.

"C'mon, Fred," the twin who Harry had thought _was_ Fred said excitedly. "Which one do you think we should start with?"

"Firewhisky and Professor Tofty sounds good to me, George."

"My thoughts exactly, brother mine."

And, grins to make any parent fret firmly entrenched on their faces, the twins bounded off to Sirius. William watched them go with a worried expression. "I hate to think what mischief the three of them will cook up together," he said to a surprised Harry and Ginny. "I wasn't at school with your father, Harry, but even though he and Sirius left a few years before me some of the older boys would still reminisce gleefully about their more… colourful escapades." He winced and began to make his way over to his brothers. "Maybe I'll just make sure they don't plan anything too dangerous…"

Harry watched him go with a grin. Maybe William was worried but Harry rather thought it would do Sirius some good to relive his 'colourful escapades' with James. A natural consequence of living under the Dursley's thumb was that everyone had become much darker and grimmer, less inclined to laugh and be free. Reminiscing about the past would do a fair amount to banish some of that darkness away.

"What are you thinking about, Earl Potter?"

Harry turned with a smile to see Hermione approaching, a still slightly awkward Ron at her side. "Nothing, _Your Highness_," he teased, bowing to her.

She went a bit pink at that, even as she laughed. "I don't think I'm _ever_ getting used to that," she said with a sigh. "And don't you _dare_ bow to me, Harry James Potter," she added sternly, giving him a light slap. "We're exactly the same now; brother and sister."

"Don't be silly, Hermione," Harry said, drawing her into a hug. "We've been brother and sister for years."

"I've always wanted a sister," Ginny said with a smile as they broke apart.

"Well I haven't," Ron said with a shudder. "One's bloody enough."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Whereas six is a reasonable number of brothers," she retorted sarcastically.

"Well… I guess we could always do without Percy," Ron said with a grin.

Ginny brightened up and turned to Harry with a wicked grim on her face. "Hey, Harry, how – "

"No!"

"Master Dumbledore!"

It was as though someone had hit them all with a spell; almost as one they whirled around, trying to see where the cry had come from – and where the elusive Master Wizard had apparently made his reappearance.

"Did you – do you think he's really here?" Hermione asked, seemingly wavering between nervousness and excitement.

Ginny frowned, still trying to find him. "Well I can't see him – and you've got to admit, he's not exactly difficult to sp– "

"No – there he is!" Harry cried suddenly, darting forwards and pushing past a rather indignant Percy. He heard rather than saw the others dash after him.

And there he was. Apparently they weren't the only ones happy to see him. King Arthur was already shaking his hand with a smile – apparently he was the one that had called out. The Queen was standing next to him, smiling as Dumbledore said something. Harry didn't like to interrupt the King and Queen – even if they were now his in-laws – but Ginny had no such qualms.

"Master Dumbledore!" she said, popping up beside her parents. "I have a bone to pick with you!"

"Ginevra…" the Queen sighed, putting a hand to her forehead wearily.

"No, it's quite alright, Your Majesty," Dumbledore assured the exasperated monarch before turning back to Ginny who, Harry was surprised to see, was glaring. "You want to know why I didn't just tell you who to look for rather than leave you with nothing but a few cryptic remarks?"

Ginny blinked surprised. "Er... yes actually."

Dumbledore smiled. "And if I _had_ told you, Your Highness, you would never have learnt anything."

For a split second Harry thought that Ginny was going to yell at Dumbledore – she certainly went bright red – but then her expression suddenly changed and she looked thoughtful. "No," she said eventually, "I wouldn't have." And she wouldn't say anything more on the subject.

"As for the rest of you, I believe congratulations are in order!" Dumbledore carried on, beaming at Harry, Ron and Hermione. "Earl Potter, it is nice to meet you properly at last," he said, bowing towards the surprised Harry.

"How do you know my name?" he asked, taken aback.

"Well the whole kingdom has probably heard the news by now, mate," Ron said with a laugh.

"We might have mentioned something as well," the King said, smiling.

"All true," Dumbledore agreed amiably, "but as it so happens I know this is Earl Harry Potter for the same reason that this gentleman must be Mr Sirius Black."

Harry turned in surprise – he hadn't realised that Sirius had broken off his talk with the Weasley twins to come hovering nearby. Clearly he was just as desperate as the rest of them to find out how Remus was but had yet to be formally introduced.

Problem solved, however, he stood there looking just as nonplussed as Harry felt, but Hermione was staring at Dumbledore in comprehension. "Tonks told you everything!" she exclaimed. "But Remus… is he…?"

"Mr Lupin is nearly fully recovered," Dumbledore said, smile widening even further as Harry, Hermione and Sirius all let out identical sighs of relief. The King and Queen retreated back to the rest of the party but Ron and Ginny stayed by their sides, just as interested as the other three. "I have to apologise for not returning sooner but Mr Lupin's condition was very severe. When I was not lending magical assistance to my friend – who, although talented in many ways, is not particularly magical – I was preparing potions, searching for obscure ingredients, enchanting talismans…"

"I'm surprised Tonks didn't help with that," Sirius said, although he looked a little surprised. Harry could guess at the origin of Sirius' shock; when most magical maladies or injuries occurred all it took was but a quick incantation or simple potion. It hadn't occurred to him that there were some situations even magic struggled to heal. Harry shuddered and thanked Merlin Hermione had had the foresight to involve Dumbledore in all this. It was apparent that if Remus had been left in _their_ hands after his incarceration he would have been lost.

"She did, Mr Black, of course," Dumbledore said, responding to Sirius' comment. "But whilst her talents as a metamorphmagus are unsurpassable our potion supplies and equipment were somewhat scarce." Harry took this to mean Tonks had tripped and broken something important. It wouldn't be the first time; he'd never met anyone so clumsy in his life. "That was no matter, however, as these kind of wounds require as much emotional support as they do magical. And that," he said with a sudden burst of enthusiasm, "brings me to this."

And, waving his wand, Albus Dumbledore made a bowl appear.

Eyes twinkling, Dumbledore handed the over large piece of pottery over to a bemused Harry. "Consider this a wedding gift," he said. "You too, Princess Hermione."

The bowl was heavy, not surprising given its size. Harry looked at it, not quite sure what to make of their gift. His eyes wandered from the sturdy, practical design to the scratches round the rim and then to the scummy looking liquid at the bottom. "Erm, thanks?" he said, wincing when it sounded more like a question than an acknowledgement. He opened his mouth to say something else – what exactly he had no idea – when he was saved by a loud squeal from Hermione.

"Ooh! I know what _that_ is!"

Only long experience with Hermione's sudden squeals saved the bowl from being smashed on the floor. Ginny and Ron were less practiced; both jumped violently. Ginny gave Harry's arm a light whack when she caught him sniggering at them both.

"I've read all about these," Hermione was saying obliviously, peering as closely to the bowl as she could.

"That's great, Hermione," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. Like Harry he was very accustomed to Hermione getting lost in educational bliss. "Fancy telling the rest of us what it is?"

Hermione jumped back, pink faced. "Oh, sorry," she said, but they're just so rare…" she trailed off looking at Dumbledore worriedly. "Master Dumbledore, it's too much, we really can't accept this."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Believe me, Your Highness, yourself and Earl Potter deserve this – and much more. There are too few people that could go through your experience and still choose to walk such a difficult – but important – path."

Hermione gave a watery smile at that, apparently beyond words. Harry, however, was still completely nonplussed and Ginny, unlike Hermione, was decidedly _not_ speechless.

"Er, Hermione? Are you going to tell us what the magic bowl is or do we need to learn to read minds?"

"You mean legilimency?"

"Hermione…" Harry growled warningly. The bowl may be magical but its charm certainly didn't extend to weightlessness.

Hermione laughed. "Sorry, Harry. This is a pensieve – it's a way of storing and sharing memories."

Everyone looked at the bowl with new eyes. "Sharing memories?" Ron repeated a little sceptically. "Is that one in there now?"

Dumbledore nodded. "One Mr Lupin asked me to pass onto you all."

They perked up at that. "Remus? How do we watch it?" Harry asked, peering into the bowl.

"You don't have to drink _that_, do they?" Ron asked, a disgusted look on his face as he looked down at the milky liquid.

Dumbledore laughed out loud at that one. "No, no, Your Highness, don't worry," he reassured the embarrassed looking Prince. "All anyone has to do is touch the liquid. But," he added loudly, as Harry and Sirius immediately made to do just that, "as it is a rather… _immersive_ experience, I suggest you save that for another time." At their disappointed faces he added, "I can, however, give you a bit of a preview." And he twirled his wand in the pensieve.

Harry really did nearly drop the bowl then.

"Is that… Remus and Tonks?" Hermione squeaked, wide-eyed. "Getting _married_?"

Sirius suddenly let out a great bark of a laugh. "Ha! Didn't I always say he fancied her?" He laughed again and applauded the wispy image. "Well done, Moony." Sirius didn't seem to care that nearly everyone else in the room was staring at this point. He was too busy bouncing in glee, watching the short clip repeat itself.

Dumbledore's wand movements had caused a small section of the memory to rise above the rest like a small cloud. That mist had then formed into two translucent images; images that were clearly Remus and Tonks facing each other. Even in the shady memory Harry could see the evidence of recent events on Remus' face. He'd lost a lot of weight he couldn't afford to lose and there were more lines than before on his haggard face. But all that was overpowered by the sheer joy emanating from him as he gazed at Tonks.

Tonks didn't look too different from normal (which, considering she was a metamorphmagus, was saying something) but Harry didn't think he'd ever seen her look so happy. Or beautiful. And if anyone was in any doubt what was happening, the elaborate veil over Tonks' hair was a dead giveaway.

As was the massive kiss they shared at the end.

"When did this happen?" Harry asked, feeling faint. Everything seemed to have completely turned on its head in the last 24 hours. He turned to the side thinking he had better put the pensieve down before he dropped it. Luckily one of the servants noticed his quandary and brought over a small table.

"As part of our treatment, Mr Lupin had become comatose," Dumbledore started. "You have to remember that the silver poisoning worked deeply within him, the wolf being a hidden part of his magic for most of the time. We needed Mr Lupin unconscious whilst our magical remedies worked at his very core. Once he had fallen into that state, however, we could not predict when or even if he would awake once more.

"It was a very difficult time but most of all, of course, for Miss Tonks. I was sleeping when Mr Lupin finally awoke but a magical alarm I had set up alerted me to his emergence. It was vital he received magical attention as soon as possible but, when Hagrid and I entered, he and Miss Tonks were… shall we say, reacquainting themselves?"

Sirius and Harry snorted whilst Hermione covered her mouth to stop her giggles. Even Ron and Ginny, who had never met either one, could imagine the embarrassing scene judging by the grins on their faces.

"That was last night," Dumbledore continued, eyes twinkling merrily. "After we rather noisily announced our presence we could administer the final treatments to cure Mr Lupin of his silver-poisoning. Another good night's sleep and I performed the ceremony for them this morning." He gave a wry smile. "Sometimes life needs to give us a bump before we noticed what's been in front of us all along." He looked rather pointedly at Ginny here who returned his wry smile.

"If they're all better, how come they're not here?" Ron asked, frowning.

"Although recovered, Mr Lupin is not yet well enough for apparition," Dumbledore explained. "That will take another few days, maybe a week. Plus," he added, eyes twinkling even more, "I'm sure Mr and Mrs Lupin wish to enjoy their marriage privately first."

Once Ron had figured that out he went bright red. "Oh. Oh, yeah. Erm…" he trailed off, looking quickly at Hermione before glancing away, even redder than before. "Right."

"Although I do believe, Your Highnesses," Sirius said suddenly over the smothered laughter, "that you have performed a bit of a coup."

"A coup?" Ginny asked, surprised. "How?"

"If I know Remus and Tonks – can we still call her Tonks if she's a Lupin now? – then I expect they figured this would be a massive shock to everyone," Sirius said with a grin. "Almost up to elopement standards. And here you four are, not only uncovering and exposing a treasonous plot, but all getting just as unexpectedly married." He broke off into a fit of laughter. "Oh, I can't wait to see Moony's face when he realises he's been upstaged by a bunch of teenagers!"

They laughed again at that although something suddenly occurred to Harry. "Wait – with this pensieve – you said it shares memories?" Harry clarified. "Does that mean Remus and Tonks could watch _our_ weddings the same way we'll watch theirs?"

The fact that half of his family couldn't be there to witness his and Ginny's wedding – not to mention the long awaited comeuppance of the Dursleys – had been one of the only dark points of the day.

"And I can see Ron and Hermione's wedding," Ginny interjected with a glare at the aforementioned Prince, "seeing how I was so _rudely_ excluded from the real thing."

Ron scowled at her. "I already told you we couldn't tell you," he started hotly before Hermione, sensing an argument, cut him off.

"And we can go back to the day at Durmstrang," she said hastily, a big smile on her face as she took Ron's arm. "That was a perfect day. And this," she continued, smiling up at Dumbledore, "is the most perfect wedding gift, Master Dumbledore. We thank you." And she curtsied.

"You are most welcome, Princess," Dumbledore returned with a smile, "but you seem to have forgotten the other aspect of my gift; as well as sharing memories, a pensieve can be used to store unwanted ones. Permanently."

There was a pregnant pause as they all took in what that implied.

"So… my memories of the Dursleys," Harry said slowly, "everything they did to me – us – I could forget it all? Just like that?"

"You would still know what happened," Dumbledore corrected softly, "but it would feel as though it had happened to someone else. All personal emotional impact would be dulled, if not nullified completely."

There was another pause. Harry felt rather than saw Ginny and Ron drop back slightly as he looked at Sirius and Hermione; this was a choice for the three of them alone.

As Harry looked from Sirius to Hermione he wondered if they were thinking the same as him. He couldn't deny the idea was extremely tempting. He had many painful memories he could do without. Memories of being locked in a cupboard without food for a whole day for daring to play with one of his own toys; of being beaten for using magic where the Dursleys could see him; of being sold like another piece of unwanted furniture; of being trapped with dementors for two whole days…

And what about Sirius and Hermione? They had their fair share of upsetting memories between them. Hermione had only been with them for 6 years but that was long enough. And what about before then; when her parents had kicked her out when they realised she was magical; when she had been scraping by on the streets, threatened, starving and afraid?

And Sirius… The first eight or nine years of life with the Dursleys was very fragmented for Harry. A lot of what happened he either couldn't remember or he was too young to understand fully. Sirius didn't have the same luck. He would remember everything that had happened and, to make matters worse, he would remember what it was like before. Harry couldn't really grieve for his parents because he had never known them. Sirius on the other hand not only knew them but he had been part of their family in all but name. Those first few years with the Dursleys no doubt everything was tinged with that grief as well as the outrage, hatred and fear the Dursleys had introduced. Harry had also long suspected that Sirius used to take punishments meant for him to spare his Godson. Would he blame Sirius for wanting to unburden his mind with ejecting some of those memories? No. Would he blame Hermione for the same? No.

Would he blame himself?

That was a much harder question to answer. Dumbledore had said that they would never forget _what_ was done to them but the memory would be gone. All the reasons for his dreams of reform would still be there but they would hurt less.

And what if, in time, he would get bored? If he lost sight of what happened and what needed to change? Could he turn into one of those other nobles, the indifferent ones, or maybe the ones that cared a little but not enough to really make a difference?

"No thank you, Master Dumbledore," Harry said quietly, having made his decision. "I don't want to forget what the Dursleys did to me. It may have been unpleasant but it has helped shape who I am and, I hope, that memory will help shape not only who I become in the future, but help me shape the world I want to live in. It was their treatment of me that led me vow to change the role of servants and commoners everywhere – to give everyone a voice. If I lose my memories then I could lose myself."

Dumbledore gave a gentle smile. "That, my boy, shows remarkable courage. Strength of character, too."

"Why do you think he inspired such loyalty in us all?" Hermione asked with a small laugh. "Character has never been something that Harry has been lacking – even if the Dursleys tried their best to squash it all out of him." She took a deep breath. "I too will keep my memories." She smiled at Harry. "You're not the only one who wants to make a change, after all."

"Sirius?" Harry asked.

Sirius' expression was hard to read. "I will keep my memories… for now," he said eventually. "Although some time in the future I may take you up on that offer."

Dumbledore smiled. "This was never meant as a one-time only offer," he said. "I will teach all of you – Prince Ronald and Princess Ginevra included – how to both copy and remove memories. The pensieve will always be there should you change your minds either way. Now," he said, bowing, "if Your Highnesses will excuse me, there are some remarkable looking lemon desserts over there screaming out for my attention." And he left whilst they all laughed.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Ginny asked him quietly. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ron asking Hermione the same thing. Sirius had been drawn back into conversation with the twins who had pounced on him as soon as Dumbledore had left. Apparently they weren't going to let their new partner-in-crime get off that easily.

Harry looked back at Ginny, wondering what she thought of his decision. Only concern was visible in her eyes however and he smiled at her.

"Yes, I am."

She smiled back. "You really don't have to keep those memories you know," she said, tentatively reaching out to hold his hand. "I won't think any less of you, if that's what you're worried about."

"No," Harry said, although part of him _did_ think that. "It's just… although those memories are the lowest, worst times of my life, they were what spurred me onto wanting to fight for equality; for making other nobles see their servants as people, not just pieces of furniture or worse. That experience will give me passion and also help me connect with other servants." He gave a rueful smile. "They'll just see me as another noble now; I need a way to show them that I'm not."

Ginny didn't say anything for a while. Then she leant over and gave a very surprised Harry a kiss. "What was that for?" he asked, startled.

Ginny shrugged, a cheeky smile playing about her lips. "Oh, just for being the most amazing person I have ever met," she said casually, smile widening into a grin as Harry blushed. "And speaking of which…" She gestured to a servant standing nearby who came over and presented her with a strange thin wooden box. "Thank you," she said as the servant bowed and backed away. She turned back to Harry and gave a nervous smile.

"I got this made for you days ago, right after Durmstrang," she said, voice also speaking to her sudden nerves. "I… I wanted to give it to you straight away but Ron and Lily – Hermione – had that strange fight and then she was a servant and…" she broke off and gave herself a little shake. "Consider this my wedding gift to you, Earl Potter." And she presented the box to him.

Harry took it, completely blind-sided. The box itself was plain black but someone, probably Ginny, had scribed _James_ in ornate silver ink. That alone made him pause. He couldn't believe Ginny had gone through so much effort for someone who was just a servant. It certainly did a lot to allay some of his earlier fears that she had married him because he was her best option.

Opening the box up this time it was _him_ who was shaking.

"Is that… did you… how did you get this?" he asked, astonished and somewhat awed as he lifted the brand new wand from the box. He couldn't believe that she'd got him a new wand. Wands were hard to find, even more expensive to make. And she had done it in less than a day for _him_, a servant.

Ginny smiled, still nervous. "You told me what had happened to your wand," she said quietly, watching him nervously. "I just… I promised I'd get you a new wand. And then you saved my life. Our lives. And so… I did."

Harry just stared at her, completely amazed. He didn't know what to say. When he told Ginny that she just laughed. "Don't _say_ anything," she said. "Give it a try."

Harry gripped the wand properly and immediately felt a warmth spread through his fingertips. He stared at the wand in surprise. His dad's wand had never done _that_. Banishing that thought from his mind he gave the wand a quick wave and jumped as red and gold sparks shot out from it. He watched them fade for a second and then turned back to Ginny, still speechless.

"It's… it's perfect," he said eventually, astounded. "How did you – "

"Master Ollivander," Ginny said simply. "He owes me a favour. Of course, it's quite hard to make a wand for someone you've never met but I told him all about you."

Harry raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh?" he questioned, smile beginning. "And what exactly did you tell him about me?"

Ginny blushed, but grinned. "Oh, I don't know; how you rescue damsels in distress, then beat said damsels at Quidditch," she teased. "How you were smart, seemed to really care about other people, no matter who they were. How you're an appalling dancer – "

"Hey!" Harry protested, trying to look indignant. "At least I didn't step on your toes like Pri – Ron – did!"

Ginny laughed at that. "True," she consented. "Anyway, after Master Ollivander asked me all these questions he chose a wood and core that seemed to suit your personality. Holly and the feather of, in his words, the most loyal and courageous phoenix he has ever met."

"Holly and phoenix," Harry repeated, staring at his new wand in appreciation.

"Does it work alright?" Ginny asked somewhat anxiously. "Master Ollivander said he would try his best but even with the recipient _there_ wands are… 'choosy' I think he called it. If it doesn't like you we can always try again."

"Well, let's see," Harry said, giving the wand another experimental wave. This time, not unintentionally, he conjured the perfect white rose. It was far easier than it had ever been with his old wand. "I think it's rather perfect." He refrained from adding 'just like you'. Instead he presented her the rose with a bow. "I know it's not quite up to par with a wand," he apologised as she took the rose carefully from him, "but I hope you accept this rose as my wedding gift to you."

Ginny grinned. "Well I don't know," she said, teasing again. "It looks 'rather perfect' to me."

Harry smiled at her and pulled her into his arms. "Now then, Princess, you and I are supposed to live happily ever after," he told her, grinning.

"Says who?" Ginny asked cheekily.

Harry paused at that. "You know, I don't actually know," he confessed. "I'm sure Hermione does."

Ginny looked over his shoulder and her eyes widened. "She looks a bit… preoccupied at the moment," she commented with a grin.

Harry shrugged. "Well, I don't care who said it," he said, "just care that we do."

"It won't be easy, Mr Lightning Bearer."

Harry winced; he'd forgotten all about that rather pressuring title. "Well, I did marry _you_," he said instead, trying to move past that particular annoyance. "I knew _that_ wasn't going to be easy."

"Hey!" Harry laughed as Ginny gave him a playful swat around the head. "Well," she said, mock glaring at him, "I suppose if we can survive being Death Eaters, kidnapping, imprisonment, Ron's idiocy _and_ Petunia then I'm sure we can survive whatever life throws at us next."

"And live happily ever after?" Harry prompted with a grin.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, I'm sure we will. Eventually."

"'Eventually' is ok with me," Harry agreed. "To happily ever after."

"Ever after," Ginny agreed with a smile.

And they kissed.

_~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After_

**Authors Note:**

So that's the last full chapter folks! There is an epilogue that will be up at the end of the week (yay!).

I usually do this at the beginning but I'm doing at the end here; I'm very sorry for how long it's taken me to get this chapter up. I'm in my first year of teaching at the moment and, as well as having more paperwork than all the other teachers, it's been a very short term meaning everything has been rather crammed in. This has meant I've basically been too exhausted to write anything until we get to a holiday. Last term was easier because I had long train journeys in which to write, it was a longer term and I was several chapters ahead of myself because of the summer holidays. I just haven't been able to keep on top of it after Christmas :(

I also apologise for this chapter – this is a very long chapter in which nothing really happens but a lot of things get tied up. I realised that the wedding was very fast from Harry and Ginny's pov – they didn't really talk about it. I used this chapter to explore their feelings a bit more. They both had strong feelings for each other but had never really said anything about it before to each other, unlike both Ron and Hermione.

It's also extremely Harry centric due to his disappearance for several chapters!

Thanks for reading.

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


	24. Epilogue: Hogwarts

**Title:** Ever After

**Summary**: Based on "Ever After". After his parents die in a coach accident, Earl Harry Potter is brought up as a servant in his own house by the Durselys. One day, when money has reached an all-time low, they decide to sell him for taxes. As his best friend and fellow servant, Hermione, determines to save him from being shipped to the Americas, she sets off a startling turn of events.

**Timeline and Spoilers:** Obviously no real relation to the books as in AU universe. This story will vaguely follow the plot of the "Ever After" film, but with an obviously HP twist

**Pairings:** Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me. I'm not too sure who Cinderella belongs to (if anyone), but "Ever After" is the property of 20th Century Fox.

**Extra:** - '_blah_' = thoughts

- Some spoken lines are either direct quotes or rewording of lines from the film. I generally reference these when they appear but this is a general disclaimer for the work.

**Dedication:** This final chapter/epilogue is dedicated to everyone who has ever read, followed, favourited or followed this story. In particular I must mention some of my loyal reviewers;

HGRHfan35, Larisya, Dracarot, DemiGoddess2012, Ivycloak, Scarlet-Rose333, Clarilyn, Mimbulus-Mimbletonia17, fatty73, Cosmyk Angel, Shower Singer, The Weatherwitch, HeartsGlow, sarsa13, WickedCharm, swanpride, outlawed-singing-sorceror-girl, The Little Things In Life and **SO MANY OTHERS :D**

I really have some lovely reviewers!

Another thank you to Dracarot for messaging me when I put up the wrong epilogue. D'oh!

**Epilogue: Hogwarts**

"Hogwarts?!"

Earl Harry Potter tried, for the umpteenth time, to reason with his wife. "Well, you _did_ tell Master Dumbledore he could name it," he pointed out.

Her Royal Highness Countess Ginevra Potter scowled at him. "Well, yes, I _did_, but seriously; Hogwarts?! It makes our school sound like… well, a warty pig!"

They'd been having this argument for what seemed like hours now, ever since Harry had revealed to Ginny what Master – no, _Headmaster_ – Dumbledore had chosen for the name of the new school they had built. In fulfilment of their promise to Riddle, creating the magic school had been one of the first things they had tackled. It hadn't been easy. After all, thanks to the Dursleys, Godric's Hollow was almost completely drained of funds not to mention no one at Court knew Harry at all. Luckily most of the burden had fallen to the Crown but the day to day management – the sweet talking of merchants, the negotiations with labourers – had fallen almost exclusively on the youngest members of the royal family; Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione. But now, nearly two years later, their school was almost ready to open.

"Riddle likes it," Ron said now, shrugging. "He's going to rename Newtown 'Hogsmeade'."

Harry scowled at Ron as Ginny groaned. Although he personally preferred Hogsmeade to the other name Riddle had threatened (Harione – a bizarre mash up of Harry and Hermione's names, supposedly to honour them) he didn't think that was the best way to bring Ginny round. "So we have a school that sounds like diseased swine with a town that sounds like a brewery for pigs right on its doorstep. Just perfect."

"I don't think it's that bad, Ginny," Hermione said, placing a comforting arm on the younger girls shoulders. "It's certainly… unusual. Should make us stand out."

Ginny sighed. "Well, I don't suppose we can do anything about it now." She pulled a face. "Once Dumbledore gets an idea into his head it's very hard to shift it."

"Look on the bright side," Harry said, holding her hand. "At least we got to name the houses."

That brought a smile to Ginny's face. "That's true," she said, squeezing his hand. "And I may be bias, but I think I'll always have a preference for Gryffindor."

Harry blushed slightly even as Ron shot his little sister down. "No way – Ravenclaw is _clearly_ the superior house," he negated, grinning at Hermione who just rolled her eyes.

"Seems we've started up house rivalry before school's even begun," she commented to Harry with a grin.

"Nothing wrong with that," Ron said. "Be good to have a bit of competition. Competition means Quidditch, of course." Rather unsurprisingly, one of the first things they all agreed on for the school was the inclusion of a Quidditch pitch.

"I still can't believe your parents let us have this castle," Hermione commented, looking around her with a happy sigh. They were currently standing in the entrance hall to what was formally Lankry castle in Scotland. They had been delighted when their Majesties had offered it up to them for use as their new magic school; it was in a very isolated part of the Highlands, in a beautiful valley surrounded by mountains and forests with a deep blue lake at the base. The castle itself was quite large, although they had had it physically and magically expanded to accommodate dormitories and classrooms as well as the necessarily impressive library.

All in all, the only one who hadn't been too happy with the decision was Aunt Muriel who had found herself unexpectedly homeless.

Ginny and Ron both shrugged. "Apart from Aunt Muriel no one really lived here," Ginny said.

"Although I'm bloody glad that Aunt Muriel decided to move back down to Court," Ron added. "She's honestly the most annoying old biddy I've ever met – not to mention she's totally bonkers." He paused and shuddered. "Can you imagine if she'd decided to stay behind like she'd threatened?"

They all shuddered at that. Aunt Muriel was… alright, but she was one of those people that had an opinion of everything and didn't much care whether you wanted to hear it or not. She was also not particularly impressed with their scheme to open up magical education to commoners and had given them all rather lengthy lectures on the subject. They had all been quite relieved when she had moved back to Court.

"Was there anything else we need to decide for today?" Ginny asked eventually. It was early June and, all things considered, their new school – Hogwarts – would be opening that September. Most of the major projects had been completed already – hiring staff, fitting out rooms, decorating – but there were plenty of little jobs left.

Hermione, ever the organised one, brought out a list she kept with her at all times. "There's only one thing left to do today," she said, peering at it. "And that's assigning values to each house."

"You what?" Ron asked. Harry was equally confused.

"Ginny and I thought it would be a good idea if each of the houses had a particular trait we value as it's… motto, I guess," Hermione explained. "Something to aspire to."

Harry and Ron considered that for a second. "I like that idea," Harry said with a smile. "It will certainly help with trying to use Hogwarts to make people more considerate."

"And by people you of course mean the nobles," Ginny teased with a laugh. Harry stuck his tongue out at her but didn't deny it. "Well, I call courage for Gryffindor," she said, getting back to the matter at home. "It is, after all, named after one of the strongest people I know."

Hermione smiled as she wrote that down. "Gryffindor, bravery; check."

"Well if that's how we're doing it then Ravenclaw has obviously got to be brains," Ron said.

They all laughed at that. "I think you'll find most people have already got brains, Ron," Harry said.

"I don't know… that certainly explains a few things," Ginny said, a mockingly pondering expression on her face as she stared at her brother.

Ron scowled at her. "You know what I mean; being ridiculously intelligent, like Hermione."

Hermione blushed. "I don't think we can put intelligence – you can't exactly aspire to it," she said, frowning.

"How about hard work then?" Ginny suggested instead. "Or dedication?"

"Dedication… I like that," Hermione said with a smile adding that to her list. "For Hufflepuff?"

They all considered that for a while. "Loyalty," Harry said firmly, thinking of Tonks, Sirius, Remus and Hermione.

"Right, loyalty," Hermione agreed. "And I think Slytherin should be ambition."

"No!" Harry exclaimed as Hermione went to write that down. She and the others looked at him shocked although Harry himself couldn't see why. He was rather more shocked that Hermione had suggested it in the first place.

"Why ever not, Harry?" she asked, confused.

"Remember the Dursleys?" he said, shuddering. He still had his full memories of them although there were some days he was tempted to use Dumbledore's gift, especially after a frustrating day dealing with snobby nobles who still looked down on him and Hermione for having been servants. "Everything they did was out of pure ambition; Petunia's ambition," he continued bitterly, "for more power and to get her son next to the throne. I don't think we should be encouraging ambition at all."

The other three exchanged glances. "That's rather ironic coming from you, Harry," Ginny said slowly, "considering you're the most ambitious person I know."

Harry gaped at her. "What?"

"Not all ambition is at gaining more power," Hermione said watching him carefully. "It's about having a big dream and doing something to fulfil it – even if it's a completely selfless dream like yours."

Harry stared at them both, still gobsmacked. He looked at Ron who shrugged. "What they said, mate. Changing the way everyone in the country thinks, opening up a school that integrates commoners _and_ the nobility, demanding everyone gets an education… if that's not ambition I don't know what is."

Harry closed his mouth. "I guess I never really thought about it that way before," he admitted, feeling a little shaken. "And I didn't think I'd _ever_ find something I had in common with Petunia."

"You do _not _have _anything _in common with that… that _hag!_" Hermione said, so vehemently that everyone jumped. "Harry, there is a _world_ of difference between wanting to make the world a better place and destroying other people for your own selfish desire." She took a deep breath. "Petunia is an example of the worst of humanity. You're an example of the best."

"You know, Hermione, you've been making it very hard these past couple of years for me to feel sorry for myself," Harry said eventually with a smile after staring at his sister for a long moment.

Hermione smiled at him. "It's my job."

"And I, for one, thank you for that," Ginny said, leaning on Harry with a grin. "I don't particularly want to live with a mopey husband. With Hogwarts and everything else we hardly get enough private time together as it is."

Ron pulled a face. "I don't really want to hear that. Or _see_ that," he added as Harry gave his wife a kiss.

Ginny poked her tongue out at him. "If I have to listen to Hermione gush on about you then you can handle a little bit of embarrassment." As if to make her point she gave Harry another massive kiss. Hermione smothered a laugh as Ron spluttered. Harry didn't really notice; he was too busy enjoying the kiss.

"Alright then," he said after he broke from the kiss, "you've convinced me; Slytherin is ambition."

Hermione couldn't help the smile as she added that to her list. "So then here we are; Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Comprising of courageous Gryffindors, dedicated Ravenclaws, loyal Hufflepuffs and ambitious Slytherins." Hermione paused and looked at the others a little uncertainly. "Think it will work?"

"Of course it will, Hermione," Ron said with a grin. He pulled his wife into a hug. "In a thousand years Ravenclaws will still be trouncing the others at Quidditch." Hermione rolled her eyes but looked reassured nonetheless.

"A thousand years?" Harry repeated dubiously. "Isn't that a little optimistic?"

"More like… ambitious," Ginny corrected, with a grin. "But ambition, as we said, is good."

"Well, I can't argue with that," Harry said, giving her a squeeze. "To Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

"To Hogwarts!" Ron and Hermione echoed, grinning.

Ginny didn't say anything. "What's wrong, Ginny?"

She sighed. "I just… really _hate_ that name."

_~ Ever After ~ Ever After ~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After~ Ever After_

**Authors Note:**

Well, that's it! The end! Caput! Thank you so much for everyone for reading this, especially those that didn't give up through the three long non-update periods. I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I have writing it and thank you to everyone who has ever reviewed :)

For this epilogue, there were a lot more things that I wanted to include – Tonks had joined the aurors, Sirius was running Godric's Hollow whilst both he and Remus had been restored to their noble state by the King and Queen. Remus was going to work at Hogwarts when it opened as one of the teachers. Hagrid had been cajoled into working at Hogwarts as well by Dumbledore. Slightly less trusting, the King and Queen had set up an espionage network (I'm sure you can guess who it was headed by). Fred and George continued to shock the Court with their tricks, Sirius sometimes lending a helping hand. And the Dursleys? They were currently enjoying prison and, nasty Aunt Petunia, the company of the dementors of Azkaban.

Thanks for reading. Always.

Love,

Hannanora-Potter

~x~x~x~


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